


Order of the Purple Hyacinth

by Annie_Lacus



Category: Kieran and Lauren, Purple Hyacinth (Webcomic), Webtoon - Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Smut, Sex, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 31,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24060319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie_Lacus/pseuds/Annie_Lacus
Summary: Kieran and Lauren navigate the new scene of betrayal, dancing, and secrets that have emerged through their reluctant association.
Relationships: Dylan and Lauren, Kieran and Lauren (Purple Hyacinth), Kieran and Lauren - Relationship, Kym and Will
Comments: 23
Kudos: 171





	1. "Me non metu libero"

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of the Purple Hyacinth Webcomic by sophism and ephemerys. Taking off at the Season 1 Finale. 
> 
> PSA- I'm not a writer (more of a reader) but I've always enjoyed it and always wanted to get better at storytelling/writing in general, so please give me critiques! (My writing style is a bit strange- as a child I grew up in many places, so my english is a bit strange) This is a long process, and I want to do the story thoroughly and how I imagined it, so if it feels long winded, that was my intention- I'm not one to get right to the grit...usually... but if you feel like I'm dancing too much leave comments and let me know! (Also all my chapter titles are in Latin- and are usually some kind of hint as to the following events!) Gaudeo!

“Kieran White.”

Maybe it would have hit her harder, maybe hearing that name would have crumpled her to pieces, the small bit of her heart that reached out to be enveloped in black hair, maybe it’s springs would have broken. 

But Lauren’s first instinct wasn't to break. Her first instinct was rage. Rage boiling over, making her vision hazy, and the man before her, spine taught, decorated in a white shirt and white ribbon, was no more than that- an empty ensemble. She tried hard not to think of the last few days, how he had held her against a stone wall, how he had proven himself a true monster, how he had screamed and immediately retreated after his words. That expression, the only thing keeping Lauren from bursting at the seams. That expression of confusion, his eyes wide, mouth open in surprise- and the look of remorse, that passed through the worried creases in his face. Lauren supposed it wasn’t just the look which made her refrain from attacking the man before her, it was his words too. Too painful to conjure at the moment, too painful because she knew deep down they were true. 

But rage was too explicit an emotion upon first interactions. 

“Mr. White,” she reached out her hand, “Nice to meet you,” There was no welcoming, or pleasure, or really even niceness, only the hint of betrayal as their palms met, reluctantly shaking. Kieran remembered a time when they felt different, swaying in his own, gripped at the back of his neck, or held tightly to his after fleeing the very people that stood about them now. 

Kieran inwardly flinched, but not now, now the feeling, usually nice, was laced with resentment, and a kind of distance. 

“Miss Sinclair.” He said retreating back, a faint smirk begging to be shown on his lips, he couldn’t help himself, even in the face of all he had done and was about to do, he was happy to see her. 

Laurens hand unconsciously drifted to her neck, brushing the bruised places. Kieran’s eyes tore from her, guilt evident on his face. 

Kym, always the observant, swiveled her attention to her red haired friend, who had descended to her desk, eager to get away from him. “Lauren!?” she exclaimed, reaching after her. 

“You alright? You seem a bit... moody...” she said quietly as Lauren sat, careful not to drift her vision to the black haired man in the corner. 

Laurens eyebrows furrowed, “Just a long night.” she said weakly. 

Kym wasn’t convinced, she leaned further, eyes like a cat before pouncing “And morning.” Lauren quickly stated. Her memories of Tim sake, still fresh in her mind, and the lump and aching in her skull, fresher. It had been one thing to be slammed over the head, and let Sake run free once again, but it was an entirely other lump to have Kieran White now an accepted member of her precinct. 

At that moment the Hermann came bursting in, his usual trail of tripping men with filing boxes followed. 

“Good morning officers.” He stated, all bodies in the room rose, their hands to their foreheads. 

“Sir.” all stated in unison. 

“At ease.” He said calmly, retrieving a paper from his goblins.   
Lauren peaked a view at Keiran, who was all too confidently standing before the man who wished for his own incarceration- a power? Lauren thought, or is it just blind arrogance? She waved it away- Kieran seemed to be paying as little attention to her as she was to the general. 

“This morning's briefings are short- our basic schedule of patrol- you all know your duties there. We have the ongoing issue of Lune,” Laurens face nearly burst as she trained her eyes on Hermann. “I have placed this investigation in two our own, but their identities will remain in confidence. My suspicions are that we are not the only precinct after these vigilantes,but this is a company working against the Phantom Scythe- one that will surely be taken down in haste if that is the case. Our goal at the 11th is to take them down before the Phantom does, so if there is any news, dealings, or if you so much as hear gossip on the streets- inform me immediately. These vigilantes have excessive information that no other organization does- and we entreat each and every one of you to be on the lookout and to report it immediately.” 

Lauren forced the hot blood down from her face, two of their own? She wondered, eyes narrowed at her blue haired friend to her right. Surely it couldn’t be either of them- surely she was dead if it was either of them. 

Hermann was handed another sheet, “We have the ongoing issue of the elusive Purple Hyacinth. His motives this previous week were horrendous and an absolute demand of the Phantom Scythe, that much we know. Our King has placed a bounty on this monsters head- one that is surely fit for his crimes. Again if any of you have any knowledge, inform me immediately. Though we will not be taking any direct action as to his own incarceration, I have been informed just this morning that his dealings will be dealt with by a mothering organization, I do not know of their specific workings, other than their jurisdiction reaches over many settlements, and their implementation was a demand by the royal family- and they ask of us all to pass on any knowledge we may acquire- which you will all do.” His words seemed to simmer with a kind acidity, one that washed over Lauren like sand, and made Kierans’ eyes slit. 

Hermann setting down his papers, turned to Kieran, who looked amused. “As you may all have noticed, we have a new archivist, Mr. Kieran White,” Kyms hands clapped frantically. Hermann raising a brow in her direction, caused the clapping to cease. “Please make him feel welcome, and answer any questions he may have.” The general turned to leave, and the rest of the officers resumed their pecking, he stopped suddenly turning to Kieran, “Officer Sinclair,” he half exclaimed through the mess.

“Yes Sir?” 

“Show him around would you?” he nodded in Kierans direction before leaving. 

Laurens lips pursed, “...yes sir.” 

………………………………….

“The archivists office.” she stated flinging the large oak door in to reveal a dark and damp room filled with binders and the like. 

Kieran pushed himself in, “Mm. Reminds me of home,” He said fingers brushing against the binders spines, “Smells like it too.” he said, blue eyes on the files in curiosity. 

He looked a bit like a cat, Lauren thought, in the way he seemed to be playing with his food. She shut the door quietly. Kieran, hands now flipping through a binder smiled, “Alone at last.” he muttered, turning towards her. 

“I know you’re here by the order of the PS, so that means a few things. Either you’re here to kill my friends or you’re here to thwart my plans,” she stated cooly. “And if it’s not either of those...then you’re still involved in my own personal business.” 

He snapped the binder shut, removing the bifocals that rested on his nose. “I wouldn’t be so quick to jump to conclusions dea-”

“Tell me the truth Kieran.” 

His usual playful coyness faded, “You realize I couldn’t lie to you even if I tried right?” Her expression didn’t change, “I am here on PS business. But that’s only half the equation, the rest is much more...melancholy I’m afraid to say.” 

“Which is?” Lauren had been hungry for answers from this man, from the first day they met. 

“The PS wants Lune dead, and they have tasked me with their execution.” 

Her head spun, but her eyes didn’t waiver from his. He wasn’t lying. Her reverie broke, and she stepped closer to him, arms crossed. 

“So you’re here to kill me?” she asked, almost exasperated. 

“No, I’m here to warn you.” 

“Why not just warn me then? Why go to the trouble of infiltrating this place, getting a job…” she inquired loosley, 

Kieran smiled slightly, “That...is personal.” he stated simply. Lauren, infuriated with his general demeanor, flung open the door and left. She heard him exclaim something in the distance, but he too couldn’t bring himself to run after her, like running towards a bull that only wanted to puncture him. 

……………………….

He reached around, long violinist fingers wrapped around her neck, her eyes remained closed, glued almost, as if she didn’t want to witness the man before her. 

The fingers didn’t tighten, if anything they gentled, she could feel the brush of his hair skimming across her forehead, and the lean of the bed where his other hand pushed it, his presence nearing. His body taught against hers, the hard ridges of his body, muscle and bone alike dug into her own. It was almost a welcome feeling, Lauren thought, human touch however dangerous, was still warm. She could feel his breath nearing, but she willed her eyes to remain shut, for she feared if they opened, they would see what she had been desiring since that fateful night in the alley. And she would fall into his trap all over again.

“Darling…” he whispered, his lips trailing softly on her cheek bone, she could feel his eyelashes, like a breeze, flutter gently against her skin. She fell and drowned in the feeling, the warmth of his breath, the plush comfort of his lips on her skin. If only she turned her head slightly she might- 

Stop. Stop. She screamed at herself. But the man's presence only neared.

“Kieran stop!” She screamed, and her eyes burst into the darkness, her body felt pinned to the bed. Her eyes trailed the shape of his legs, a silhouette under her blanket then to the scarred and bruised torso she had once bandanged, then to his face- where her breath caught. 

“Ren?” 

He was older, larger, face broken by the sun, eyes still blue, hair still stark white, his cheekbones sharp, a look of worry painted on his face.

“You know where I am don’t you?” the apparition of Dylan panted. 

“You found me Ren, you just have to save me please, please Ren!” the apparition reached for her again but faded, and her consciousness found itself again. 

A nightmare, Lauren thought rising from her bed, it was a cool morning, the fog had bedded itself at the trusses of the brick houses in Ardhalis, the clouds seemed to be a permanent settlement over the city most days. They were a welcome weather to the city, and the city to it, as cloudy days always proved the most dreary. 

Lauren reached again for her neck, comforted partly by the fact that it was Dylan she saw, albeit much older and with the body of an all too familiar assassin. It was what he had said that made her less sure, she hadn’t found him, nor could she save him and she was beginning to think she never would.


	2. "Copiae Discesserunt"

9am at the 11th precinct was the busiest time of day, when caffeine had it’s strongest effect and the morning exhaustion had worn off. Lauren was preparing for a patrol on the west end, when she noticed Will and Kym being called out of office. She couldn’t help but wonder if they were the two that were tasked with finding Lune. And what a detriment it would be to even ask, Kym was too responsive, and dug too deeply into expressions alone, she was a fighter and a detective at heart, Lauren and Kieran wouldn’t stand a chance. And if they did it pained Lauren too much to think of hiding herself from her friends, and even more so to reveal that side of her, and to reveal Kieran in the process. 

………………………………

“Will, Kym, thank you for coming.” 

The two sat, Kym always the comfortable, and Will always the cautious. 

“Have you two made any new leads on Lune?” Hermann asked. 

Will spoke first, “No sir. But it seems their activity has ceased.” He remembers their last interaction, how furious he was at the little progress being made. 

“You’re telling me, you’ve been at this for weeks and haven’t heard or found a thing leading to their identities?” he spat

Kym placed a hand on Will’s chest before he could apologize. 

“No we haven’t. And maybe you shouldn’t have mentioned it at yesterday's briefing, especially if you think they have ties to the precinct.” Kym spat back. 

Will had a look of shock on his face, Kym was wildly….wild, most of the time, she spoke like a 18th century poet, with stacks of sarcasm and confusion, but this wasn’t the poet, this was something darker. 

Hermann looked shaken, but he held his ground. “March and I have been informed there is a rendezvous at the Carmine Camille two days from now, we are told it’s a phantom scythe gathering, gaslighting as a masked party, we need you both to attend.” 

The two were silent. 

“A-and dance?” Will asked shakily. 

“No, not dance-” he swiveled his attention to the beet red blonde, “What on- no we need you two to attend and gather intel on the phantom scythe, March and I are suspicious that if PS members are in attendance, there is a chance Lune may be as well.” 

“So what- we’re supposed to arrest anyone attacking the phantom scythe members?” Kym quipped, “That seems a bit backwards.” 

Hermann looked insulted, “Not arrest, gather intel.” His patience was draining. “If you happen to get a confirmation that Lune is there, then yes arrest them, but your confirmation better damn well mean something.” he spoke slowly. 

“Still seems a bit backwards to me…” Kym’s attention drifted elsewhere, Will a look of worry on his face. 

“What time is the rendezvous expected to happen?” he asked. 

“9 pm, you may take whatever resources you need, but I expect a full report on my desk the next morning,” he stood, “You’re both excused.” 

Will and Kym rose to retreat out the door, “Sir, where did Mr. White come from?” she asked, taking the gentlemen in the room by surprise- Kym had that effect. 

“Excuse me?” Hermann asked. 

“What organization did he come from? Or was he a lowly archivist at the museum...or library, or something?” she asked. 

“Lauren’s uncle, the chief constable, referred him.” 

Kym waltzed out the door, “So they do know each other…” she murmured to herself.

…………………………

Kieran had been set up in the dank room for a little too long that day. Brushing through pages and pages of washed up intel on the Phantom Scythe, and consequently, himself. Reading through each one of the police reports on his murders, wasn’t a particularly joyous routine, the precinct was wildly biased… 

Kieran skimmed through eye witness reports on the purple hyacinth “....the man had spikey black hair, long moustache? and a ROUND FIGUR-” 

“Do you know a man named Tim Sake?” asked a voice from the door. 

Kieran, not usually the one to be surprised, turned to face the woman at the door. Her body languid against its frame, he closed the binder.

He decided to not reply with some quick meaningless retort, he owed her that much. “I do not know a man named Tim Sake.” he replied. 

Lauren looked down, in defeat.

“Do you know a man named Tim Sake?” he asked with a smile. 

“Unfortunately.” she said.

“Don’t bait me officer, is this another wicked phantom scythe member you’d like to catch?” 

She stared at him then, the memories of their past ventures still fresh. “You have a habit of killing everyone we catch, so no, I don’t want to catch him.” she spat. 

“So you want to interrogate him?” he asked. 

Lauren took a deep breath. “Yes.” 

He leaned back in his chair, “Pray tell, does this Tim Sake have any connection to our dear Anslow? May he rest in peace.” 

Lauren turned on her heel, an obvious answer to Kierans' question. 

“Lauren!” he yelled after her, “Lauren wait!” he yelled. She stopped, looking back slightly. 

“If it helps there’s a party at the Carmine Camille two days from now, it’s a phantom scythe gathering, but it’s masked I’m told. If your Mr. Sake is anywhere in this city, that may be a good place to start.” his eyebrows rose in suggestion. 

“And will you be at this gathering?” she asked. 

“Darling, I’m the poster child for the phantom scythe, of course I will be there. My absence would be like if a ship set sail, but they miraculously forgot the sea.” 

She turned to leave once more.

“Lauren,” he said, halting her again, but not from the abruptness, from the gentle way he said her name. 

“Don’t interrogate him. Dance with him.” he said softly before returning to his pages.


	3. "Eum Avarum Vocamus"

The wheels of the car came to a jerking hault, Lauren had arrived. 

The carmine camille was massive- soaring pillars, numerous staircases, bustiling women and men, all too elegant to look particularly phantom scythe esque. Candle-light, peculiarly, lit the entire establishment. A warm glow settling over the faces and adorned gowns. 

“Seems a bit dangerous doesn’t it.” spoke a voice next to her. 

She turned, half expecting to see Kieran, but it was a stranger. Tall, dusty, almost grey brown hair flipped up in a tangled mess- but a crown that nonetheless framed his face quite pleasantly. He was simpler dressed than the lot of the men there. His light brown eyes raised to the candlelight, his hands were sheathed in white gloves, his starch white shirt unwrinkled and fitted, and a large black frock coat, languid on his shoulders. 

“Pardon… do you speak english?” the man asked wearily.

Lauren snapped her attention back to his words, “Y-yes, I was just adoring the candlelight. B-but yes, it is a bit dangerous.” 

The man smiled down at her. “Perhaps an intimidation tactic.” 

Lauren only smiled. 

“May I escort you, to the main room, I mean?” he asked. 

Lauren, nearly always guarded, narrowed her eyes at him “I only ask because you appear to be alone, as I am to. And I was informed that suitors must be in attendance with a lady, if they wish to enter the main room.” he asked shyly. 

“You must come with a suitor?” she asked half baffled.

“I believe so.” he smiled, a wonderful brilliant smile. 

“Y-yes, you may accompany me.” she peered up at him, wrapping her arm around the hook of his. 

Lauren, heart pounding recalled assuringly she had opted for her previous disguise, a dark short bob, smoky makeup, deep lipstick, and a deep red dress. Of course adorned underneath with all the weapons she might need. And a black mask that shaded her eyes. 

Lauren and the stranger approached the main room, servants in black and white thrust open the large doors, Lauren stood stock still jerking her partner backward- the foyer was a poor trailer for the actual party. 

Candlelight was still the only form of illumination for the party. There was a wash of noise and music that hit her like a storm. She stood at the entrance of what felt like a party reserved for greek gods and goddesses, each man and woman was decorated in haught gowns, some silk, some what appeared to be crushed diamonds, their masks were elaborate spectacles of gold, and black- some appearing more expensive than the dresses. There was a large chandelier that hung from the ceiling, light glinted from its arms, and delicate pieces of tulle hung from its hinges. The walls a deep red ran from the edge that faced the private forest outside to large french windows and doors, which lay propped open, making the flames of the candles flicker ever so slightly. The only truly strange thing of the place was the floor- dark oak, scratched and unrefined lay beaten at her feet. 

Lauren wondered, why a place of this caliber?- her detective skills had kicked in. Candlelight, because it’s obviously harder to see one another, any kind of intruder would be stalled by his own vision. The hardwood so you might hear someone approaching, and the glittering chandelier, simply bragging. And the people, oh the people, Lauren thought. The elite, the biggest distraction of all. She had scanned the faces a few times, but the candle light was doing a number on her vision, she had only remembered one particular head, a head of pink hair that felt oddly familiar. 

“Would you like the dance?” the man asked leaning his head towards her, but still enamored with the view. 

Lauren looked up at him, his intentions seemed honest, he hadn’t lied, or poked fun at her. “Yes.” she said, refraining a smile. 

He took her hand and led her to the dance floor among the other couples swinging and swaying. He danced differently than Kieran, more methodical, he knew the steps like Kieran didn’t. Kieran, was not bad, she recalled, he was just smooth. He could bend and twist her- 

What in gods name was she thinking. 

“Jesus, he’s here.” the man said to himself. 

Lauren caught slightly by surprise, thought the man meant Sake. But no, it was someone far more dangerous. 

Kieran White. 

Lauren playing ignorant asked, “Who is it? The man with the black hair?” she whispered back. 

“I don’t think I’m supposed to tell.” he responded curtly, for Kieran had made his way in their direction, weaving his way through the dancers, he hadn’t seemed to notice Lauren, but seemed to be looking for someone. 

Kieran had floated past her and the brown haired man, not seeming to notice her, and placed himself at the edge of the crowd, in the shadows, his natural habitat. 

The song ended in a rueful drop, and the man bowed strangely, kissed her hand and led her to get refreshments. 

Lauren sipped champagne, and twisted towards the man leaning on the table. If it wasn’t for a scarred image blur past her in a fury, she may have stayed. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I think I found my friend.” she didn’t wait for his response, she was following Sake, through the standing flames and into the shadows- drink in hand. 

…………………………………

Kieran had been lounging on his own quite some time. He caught glimpses of Belladonna, but kept his interest bound- she wasn’t the woman he wished to find this evening. He had noticed familiar faces of the Scythe, but it was only a few. And they all seemed to congregate like cattle, brushing off anyone else who might approach, and all bickering to themselves. For the most part it was the low end members, but he figured he wouldn’t take much notice of the higher ups- they remained well hidden. It was more Lauren he was concerned with. Where she was, who she was interrogating, if she was dancing…

………………………..

Lauren had devised a plan then, and it involved seduction. 

She was sitting adjacent to Sake, leaning against the deep red wall of the great room. He seemed just as disinterested in the party as she was. Perhaps he was waiting for the party to really start. 

This was not an anslow kind of seduction, all flirty pretenses, this was a curious seduction, she needed him to herself, and alone, she needed him in fact… to dance. She wasn’t particularly happy about Kierans advice, but he had a point, any chance at kidnapping and interrogating a phantom scythe member was low, better to seduce and dance with him ins-

“Would you like to dance?” a voice broke her reverie. 

It was Sake. Hand extended, a faint smile on his lips, asking her, Lauren if she would like to dance. 

She smiled, again shyly. “Yes.” her voice was pitched higher. 

Sake led her out to the floor, grabbing her waist a bit too hard, and a bit too closely. He moved a bit to slowly. 

“I hate these parties.” he whispered close to her mouth. 

Lauren, hadn’t intended to get this far- she had a slew of questions, but couldn’t seem to conjure the words at the moment, he seemed to be crushing the air from her lungs as he purred into her ear. 

“In truth, I’ve never been to one.” she said. 

“Ah, a new member, or a mistress perhaps?” 

A mistress? Lauren thought in disgust. “I’m not entirely sure what my place is here.” she feigned a laugh. 

Sake did not seem amused. She humored him, “Why do you hate them? They’re rather lavish.” she said. 

“They’re all work and no play, the fixings are just a disguise.” 

Lauren snorted, “A disguise for what?” 

Sake almost smiled, “Death.” 

She tried hard to hide her beating chest and fuming heart. “I hate to tell you, but I don’t see anyone dying.” she hated playing coy with this man, she wanted to repeatedly dunk his head into a bucket of boiling water, not dance with him. 

“Plans for death dear, big plans.” Sake spoke quietly. 

Lauren could feel herself shaking, the image of the train station flashed through her mind, the explosion, the crack in her eardrums, the blinding light and the sudden realization her dear friend had died, and it was her fault. Plans for death dear, big plans. It was going to happen… attacks were coming.


	4. "Quibuscum Fugeratis"

It was at this exact moment that Kieran noticed Lauren. Her red hair caught up in the dark bobbed wig, a crime, Kieran thought, to hide something so essential to her person. 

It was also at this moment that Kieran noticed two others, ones he wasn’t particularly excited to see. Kym and Will- if Lauren knew they were here, she would flee immediately, or blame him for some reason or the other, for inviting them, or willing them here with his charm. But Kieran hadn’t done either, and he knew why they were here, Lune. 

Kieran rose from his leaning position as abruptly as one could without being noticed, and made his way, light footed, to where Lauren was dancing- with Mr. Sake he assumed. 

He nudged between dancers, nearly being hit by some outlandish hat…. He did a double take….. “A live bird, for god's sake not again…” he muttered to himself. 

His eyes trained firmly on Lauren, darting from her swaying figure to Kym and Will, hand in hand surprisingly, weaving their way through the crowd, paying loads of attention to anything but the hand they were holding. His pace quickened, he had spent a short time with Kym, but came to realize she was wickedly perceptive, an eagle eye by any means. 

He had made it to Lauren. 

“May I steal your wife a moment?” Kieran asked curteously, using the term wife to assuredly piss off and get Laurens attention. 

“I just couldn’t help but notice her beauty from across the room, I had to have my turn.” he smiled wickedly at Sake. 

Lauren seemingly unabashed by his sudden presence, stopped their movement, as Sake, stared at Kieran. 

“M-Mr.White, y-yes of course, she is not my wife admittedly…” 

Kieran grabbed Lauren out from under Sakes grasp, “Then there is more trouble afoot my good sir!” Kieran beamed bouncing and spinning Lauren away. 

Kieran half tripped attempting to move them from the middle of the dance floor, but Lauren caught him, arms wrapped around his neck. 

“What the hell are you doing.” She spat 

“I’m sorry.” he said

The response took her aback, but not for long, “Isn’t that what your flowers are for?!” She yelled in a half whisper, “I was in the middle of something.” 

He looked down at her, adoration on his face, but he didn’t respond. 

He spun her a few more times, “If you look near the champagne table, you’ll find two very familiar faces.” He whispered into her ear. 

Reluctantly she turned her gaze towards the table, her eyes widening. Kym stood alert as ever, her hand placed in Wills, who sipped champagne, eyes glazing over the dancing faces. She turned her head violently in the opposite direction, placing Kieran between her and their gazes.

“We have to get out of here.” She whispered sternly. 

Kieran beamed, “Leave it to me officer.” 

He swooped her up, spinning her frantically towards the band which played in the corner. 

Kieran stopped, lifting his mask ever so slightly to the band, “Play something slow would you?” 

The band, seeming to register who was asking, immediately stopped and began a slow melody- the dancers followed in the rhythm drawing one another closer. Kieran doing the same. 

One hand wrapped tightly around her waist, the other grasped her right hand, pulling it close to his chest. He pushed her deeper into the crowd. 

“I don’t see how this helps our escaping.” she snapped quietly. 

“It draws more people onto the floor, contrary to popular opinion, the phantom scythe is just pouring over with hopeless romantics.” he said joyously. 

She didn’t want to believe it, but he had been right, more people flooded into the floor. “Slow music also requires very little movement, easier to participate.” he said, gripping her tighter. His head bowed next to hers, cheek grazing her own, hair mingling with her own faux locks. He stiffened suddenly. 

“What?” she asked hurriedly. 

“N-nothing, get closer to me.” 

“Are they near?” she asked, reluctantly inching her body closer to his. 

“Hide your face.” he said, bowing his head farther towards hers. 

With an exasperated breath he pulled her the closest she could be, his body a familiar firmness against her. She turned her head slightly resting it gently on the warm juncture of his neck, her lips lightly nudged his skin, their enclosed hands a shield to their faces. They swayed slowly. 

“You do realize we are masked?” she said after a moment.

“Would you like me to remove yours?” he asked quietly, his warm breath against her face. He was close, too close. She flushed suddenly, a deep red, now thankful for the cover. 

“No, but I don’t think our closeness… is necessary.” she resented her own words. 

“Just follow my steps.” He began to walk them backward, achingly slow towards the steps that led them toward the foyer. 

“Can you speed this up.” her voice twinged. He didn’t respond, only continued their small stepping and swaying- a graceful exit by any means. She feared that a few moments longer, with her face pressed against the exposed skin of his collar, she might completely fall to pieces. 

“They’re in the back of the room now, take my hand, and keep your head down.” 

He grabbed her palm, yanking her up the steps, a bit too rushed for any hired assassin. Kym and Will weren’t that intimidating, she thought. 

He led them through the foyer and down the stone steps into the cold evening air, the sky like lead. 

The pair ran further, past and through damp alleyways, hurdling through clouds of smoke from the steel mills, and finally coming to a rest near- oddly closer to Ardhalis train station. 

Lauren, bending down removed her black satin heels, cursing. 

“Does your ankle still hurt?” Kieran asked, breathless next to her. 

She ignored this. “What were they doing here?” she asked rising up to meet his eye line. “Did you mention it to them? Did you tell them I would be there?” She demanded. 

His face twisted and he raked a hand through his hair, discarding his own mask. It was then Lauren really saw him, the moon had peaked slightly through a break in the clouds, and the effect it made was intoxicating. 

He was bound in a loose white shit, his chest and bandages exposed. He wore a black wool frock coat, and black trousers haphazardly tied up with long laced boots, his hair tied back, but wild- like the obsidian rocks that jutted from the ocean floor. His eyes, a blue like an ocean storm. All sharp angles and deep shadows. 

“You’re smarter than that officer.” he said plainly. 

The look on her face was incredulous, “Then why-” her train of thought had halted, and she felt a pang of remorse shoot through her for accusing him so quickly.

“Ahh, ding ding ding!” he said subdued, sitting himself down onto the sidewalk. 

Lauren cycled through any and every moment she could think of, and after a moment sat herself down beside him. Admittedly, if was her foremost suspicion. 

“You said the PS wanted Lune dead right?” 

He nodded. His eyes drifting to the full moon above. 

“Then we need to kill them.” she stated simply. 

Kieran whipped his attention back to Lauren. 

“I happen to have a reputation to uphold,” he said sarcastically, “I’m also not sure you can find corpses, let alone live people, with these devilishly handsome good looks.” he said gesturing to himself.

“No one knows our identities, and for all anyone does know, at the precinct, or the PS, Lune is on hiatus. We-, they haven’t been active for weeks now.” she said, explaining the situation more to herself than Kieran. 

“So why not just let their little investigation hit a brick a wall then?” he proposed, “Seems to be an on-going trend at the 11th anyway.” 

She shot him a glare, “I have a bad feeling about it. If it’s Kym and Will, that doesn’t make sense. They’re only officers not detectives. Hermann would only task an officer with that kind of work, if he wanted the investigation to go under the radar at the precinct, he’s suspicious of us, Kieran.” 

Kieran let out a long sigh, his eyes deep in thought. “So we need to kill two people who don’t exist. And on the bodies of those people who don’t exist, we need to somehow plant insurmountable evidence that they are in fact Lune.” his voice stressed, “Seems a bit easier if we simply turned back to a life of kidnappings and interrogations.” 

“Only to have you kill off all our progress?” she looked at him. 

He stared back, “Lauren, I’m sorry.” he said hurriedly as she rose and began to walk away. 

“Lauren, stop, please.” 

She turned on her heel, gold eyes beaming into his, “I don’t want to be a part of this anymore. I don’t want you in my life. I don’t want you around my friends, and if I had the choice again, I never would have agreed to this.” she took a breath, gathering her courage “You hurt me, you betrayed me, and it's as if everything you have done to me you have brushed by the wayside, as if I would seriously consider our little arrangement again. I am a hypocrite Kieran, but you are a monster- and I’m not sure which is worse.” 

Her pace quickened beneath the bleary street lamps, her arms wrapped around one another. 

“I’m sorry!” he screamed, “I’m sorry for losing my temper in the cave, I’m sorry for involving you, I’m sorry for killing Anslow, but don’t act as if you are not partly to blame!” he walked quickly behind her. Her breath leaving in hot white clouds. 

She turned around then, nearly tripping Kieran with her solidarity. “Why are you at the precinct.” her frustration was evident. 

“I told you to warn you-” 

“The other reason.” His lips pursed. “For Gods sake Kieran, tell me your truth and I’ll tell you mine.” 

He sighed, “It was part of the order, to ensure that Lune was dead, and to ensure that whatever information the precinct had on the PS, I was set in to make sure it was destroyed- a dead end- that’s all my job is.” he spoke quietly this time. 

“Why are you a part of the PS?” 

It was Kierans turn to walk away, “That’s personal.” he said under his breath

“Our deal is off Kieran, our little syndicate is gone, you owe me this much.” she said to the back of him. 

He didn’t turn around, “They killed my father, and any prospects for a good life.” He was still a moment, his breathing shallow. He wasn’t lying. 

“Lune will be dead by tomorrow evening.” he stated before walking away, into the shadows from whence he came.


	5. Amicus, Hostilis

It was earlier in the morning, Kierans favorite time of day. He found himself on the fringes of Ardhalis, walking a path he hadn’t walked in a long time. To any other eye Kieran would have looked like an outsider if they were to glimpse in at Rolts Street. He was clad in a tweed frock coat, black trousers, but was consequently a stark contrast to his surroundings. Rolts was the heart of the working class in Ardhalis, rows of monochromatic homes all lead to a port, where a steel mill was the main source of income for many of the home's inhabitants. Soot covered men worked shirtless on the cobblestoned streets,shoveling coal, having a smoke. There were canals, stables, pubs and one too many brothels that seemed to be woven into the little port community- a sanctuary for the like minded and hardworking, and a purgatory for anyone that had the unfortunate experience of meeting Eli Rolts. 

His name was Elias, but he felt that more time could be saved by just saying Eli. Kieran wasn’t particularly an acquaintance of this man, the Rolts Company had shook hands with the PS, and as a consequence traded goods among the two organizations- Kieran White being one of those goods. 

As Kieran ascended the pub steps, he smiled at the familiar scene. Women scantily clad sat atop filthy half asleep men, their eyes bright at the depths of their pockets. Anything that could be smoked, was smoked, and anything that could be drunk was drank. It was the 4am trough- steel mill workers and any one with a bad sense of direction had found themselves at the Rolts’s Residence- a pub (among other things)- the evening before. Despite its expense, the Rolts Residence provided good company, good liquor, good gambling and an escape from the everyday perils of life. A place in his hay day, Kieran visited frequently. 

He tapped a knuckle on the large wooden door at the top of the stairs. The stench of sour Tobacco drifted below its frame. 

“Come in.” said a deep voice. 

Kieran swung the door open, entering into the room. A four paned window outlined the silhouette of a man in an old wooden swivel chair. 

“Kieran White, for what do I have the pleasure?” asked Eli, eyeing the assasin up and down. A crooked smile on his face, and a black pipe wedged between his teeth. Kieran, for some reason or the other, was comforted by Eli. He had the same look about him that Kieran did- one of inexplicable outward charm, but also the look like he had never slept a day in his life. 

Kieran sat down on the chair across from him. 

“Is today the day? That ridiculous ghost blade organization, or whatever they call themselves, finally had enough of me?” he said lighting a match to his already charred tobacco. 

“I’m afraid not Eli.” said Kieran crossing his legs. 

“Shame. I was just admiring the city, it does seem a rather nice day to die. And at the hands of the best assassin in Ardhalis no less.” He said winking, and taking a long drag from his pipe. 

Eli was young, maybe a year or two older than Kieran, but he spoke like an old war veteran, and in many ways he was. Eli was nobel born, and in a settlement much different than Ardhalis, the son of a shipping merchant, he was educated at one of the most prestigious schools- graduating at the top of his class in economics, political science, and psychology. But you couldn’t tell that from looking at him- he had haphazard grey brown hair that fell around his face at all angles, faint stubble on his chin, light brown eyes, and a smile that was both wicked as it was charming. 

He had created a name for himself at a young age finalizing import and export agreements with his mother settlement and a number of others. He offered tradesmen in the city safe passage to neighboring settlements- as well as safe passage of their material goods. Though providing this kind of business also meant providing it for the PS- an organization that frequented the use of importing and exporting, the kind that operated with high levels of discretion, and high levels of generosity to Eli. 

In short, Kieran and Eli, had both fallen victim to the PS’s trap- doing bad things for a lot of money.

“You’re too kind.” smiled Kieran. 

“So if you’re not here from the PS to kill me,” he said tapping out the ash onto his desk, “and I certainly don’t need anyone dead at this hour, do tell why you’re here.” he smiled packing a new pipe. 

“I’m here on personal business, I need a favor.” he said, watching the match light once more. 

“Good god. The purple hyacinth with a favor?” he scoffed through half closed lips, “I’ve told you many times Kieran, I cannot kill the King, and I do not know the leader so he’ll have to unfortunately keep on living.” 

Kieran chuckled, “Nothing like that,” he said readjusting in his seat, “I need an explosion, two dead bodies, and lots of planted evidence.” Kieran unpacked the contents of Lune’s dealings from his coat pocket, handing it over to Eli. 

Eli took no notice of the files. “What time?” he asked. 

“6 hours from now.” 

“Where?” asked Eli. 

“Anywhere.” 

“And the evidence?” 

“Charred, but a few signatures are still legible.” 

“Done.” he said rising from his seat putting out his hand, “I have a drafty old building I’d rather like gone, I’ve been needing a reason to burn it down. Suppose I’ll make a few pennies in the process.” 

Kieran took it, shaking. “Fire makes anew.” he whispered. 

“Tell me though, who did this explosion?” asked Eli, falling back into his chair. 

Kieran paused a moment, “The PS.” 

Eli raised an eyebrow, “I can only presume you have a way of ensuring the Rolts Company will not be a suspect?” 

“Trust me... they’ll be expecting the PS.” Kieran said warmly, moving to leave. 

“Wait a moment White,” he said holding up a hand, his long fingers decorated in gold rings, “Who was that lass you ran off with last night?” he said, pulling from his pipe. 

Kieran’s eyebrows furrowed, “Lass?” he asked. 

“Short black hair, red dress, gold eyes.” he said smiling. 

Kieran, suddenly aware of the fact that there were other people at the party who may have noticed Lauren, blushed slightly. “An old friend.” he said simply. 

Eli chuckled lowly, “I don’t believe friends dance as close as you two were last night. Nor do they run off into the night hand in hand.”

Kieran opened his mouth slightly to say something, but closed it at the thought of Laurens words. I don’t want to be a part of this anymore. Her identity was better left a mystery. 

Eli, left without an explanation, waved his hand in dismissal. “No matter. But if you see her again, tell her I said thank you for the dance, she was an excellent partner,” he seemed to smile at the recurring memory, “and tell her to stay away from that Mr. Sake- he’s ugly company to keep, better off with the purple hyacinth in my opinion.” 

At that, Kierans head shot up, “You know Mr. Sake?” he asked abruptly. 

Eli smiled, “I do. He’s an associate for the PS, was dropped off at port about two weeks ago, working with Belladonna I believe…” his voice trailed off. 

Kieran deep in thought asked, “Ugly company you say?” 

“Hideous.” he said walking to open the door for Kieran, “I’ll be in touch Mr. White.” he said ushering him out the door and closing it quietly behind him. 

Kieran sat for a moment in the darkness, the murmur of the bustle below a small distraction to his whirling thoughts. He hadn’t intended to fall so mercilessly for this woman, but it was clear now- he needed her. 

………………………………

Kieran passed through the main office without so much as looking at the rest of his coworkers- apart from the wirey blue haired girl that stopped him. 

“You smoke?” asked Kym, eyes narrowed. 

Kieran for a moment was speechless, “S-smoke?” he asked, confused, attempting to compose himself. 

“You smell like tobacco.” she stated. 

“Yes, sometimes I smoke when I’m stressed.” he lied quickly. 

“What are you stressed about? Your binders are getting moldy? parents dead?” Kieran glanced quickly at Lauren who was bent over her desk, “Lauren?” she asked quietly, a smile appearing on her lips. 

“What?” he asked wildly. Nearly spitting out his non-existent coffee. 

“You like her...” she yelled. 

Kierans eyes were wide, he grabbed the woman dragging her aside, but she slapped his hand away, 

“No. It cannot be!” she yelped, “You don’t like her…. You lo-”

“There has been an explosion!” it was a paper boy who had run in from the street- his eyes a crazy kind of desperate, hands flailing, mouth agape. 

Kym bounced into the office, “Indeed! An explosion of feelings!” 

Eli made quick work, thought Kieran. 

“It was near the port, an old apothecaries shop.” the boy said breathless. 

Will turned his attention to Kym and Lauren, “We need to alert Hermann. Get your things together, we have an-.” 

“No need Mr. Hawkes.” said an all too calm voice from the doorway. 

Hermann stood, hands clasped behind his back, not a look of anger on his face, but a look of disappointment. 

“Lune is dead.” 

For a moment the room felt like it might explode with applause and cheering, Kym and Will shot each other a quick glance, Laurens head went erect at attention, and Kieran grinned with a kind of reverence. But all were trying to gauge Hermann’s reaction before making any congratulations. 

“While this is good news, we have reason to believe that the Phantom Scythe was behind this attack. Back to work officers.” he said before departing. 

“That was strange,” Kym noticed. 

“I’ve never heard Hermann congratulate himself in under two sentences.” Will said. 

She turned to look at her blonde friend, her face a puzzle of worry and fear, “...precisely.” 

Kieran had turned to head to his cellar, but had caught the attention of Lauren in the process. She mouthed thank you in his direction. He feigned a smile, and was on his way.


	6. Aliquid Mali

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long one, folks.

“You haven’t held up your end of the bargain yet officer!” Kieran shouted trotting after Lauren. 

It was the end of the day, and the sun had managed to find its way through the clouds, leaving only a little golden light for the city to enjoy. Kieran, distraught with anguish, thought that today would be his last day at the precinct, and potentially his last day with Lauren -had fatefully remembered her words. 

Tell me your truth, and I’ll tell you mine. 

Lauren whipped around, not entirely displeased to see the galloping and beaming black haired man behind her. 

It was strange, she thought, eyeing him down as he ran towards her- she had rarely seen him in the sunlight. And his eyes were brighter, not the deep velvet blue they always seemed to be, and his hair, not black, but blue too. He looked almost abnormal, she thought, otherworldly- all smiles and golden angles... happy. 

“What bargain?” She asked. He had caught up to her. 

“Remember- tell me your truth and I’ll tell you mine.” he said, as she rolled her eyes and turned to walk away. 

“I wasn’t lying was I?” he said, hand outstretched in front her, as to stop her protesting. His eyes were almost desperate, pleading that she at least consider.

She nearly smiled then, lifting Kierans heart, “No, no you didn’t lie.” 

His eyebrows rose, nodding on her next words. She chuckled, “You didn’t think I’d really hold up my end did you?” 

“You’d defy your own reputation of honesty, just to displease a man that simply wants to know a little more about you!” he asked, baffled.

She eyed him curiously, “Yes…” 

He melo dramatically fainted before her on the street. Legs twisted in a theatrical way. 

“Kieran!” she said. There it was, he thought, she almost smiled again. His eyes slitted as he watched her yank at his shirt sleeves. “Get up, you’re acting childish.” 

He propped himself up on his elbows. “I would like to know more about you.” he said looking about the street and its gold shadows. “That is if you’re willing to share. And! If you aren’t willing to share, I’d.... like to have dinner with you. There are a great deal many things I’d like to say to you, some of which involve apologizing, and you can sit in silence while I talk.” he said hopping back to his feet brushing off the lapels of his jacket, “And after that you’ll never see me again.” he said under his breath. 

Lauren seemed to be paying little attention. Her arms were crossed, eyes squinted by the sun, not in annoyance, but in the way someone might try and look through it. Kieran wished he could reach out and touch the strings of red hair that caught in her eyelashes. To hold her in that moment, to murmur in her ear, or hear what she was thinking. 

Away with it, he thought. Away with the bargain, and the pleasantries, you could reach out right now and kiss her. She would slap you and you’d never see her again, but it might be worth it. It might save some time-

“Fine.” she said finally looking up at him, “But if the purple hyacinth is going to take me to dinner, it better damn well be somewhere nice.” 

Kieran smiled then, a kind of smile he hadn’t shown in many years. “You disappoint me officer. You think I’m going to take you somewhere with bodies hanging on the walls?” 

“Do they have Vienna sausages?” 

“Not a one.” he said sadly. 

“That does sound quite terrible.” She turned away from him with a smile on her face. 

He stood behind her, arms clasped watching as she floated away from him, red hair like a curtain.

“Tonight! 8 pm, meet me by the floral shop in Grey Chapel, wear something nice!” he yelled after her. 

She spun around quickly, “Like a disguise!?” she yelled after him suggestively. 

He simply shook his head no, and she smiled back. 

……………………..

Lauren, had hurriedly exited her home, her uncle sat up in the living area, papers strewn out about him, hadn’t asked a word as Lauren ran through the house. 

She had opted for something simple, but for something she rarely wore. A loose black blouse tucked into a rust colored skirt that tightened and buttoned around her slim waist, and fell mid shin. She had pinned her hair up for the evening, letting loose strands fall where they may. And strapped a few select weapons to the inside of her thigh. 

She made her way quickly and quietly through the grey chapel, stopping dead at the sight of the man waiting near the floral shop. 

She had remembered in school her history teachers had taught how Native peoples, at the first sight of a man and horse, thought the creature was one- and found it menacing if not some kind of spirit from a dream. 

Watching Kieran now, a mess of black shadows perched languidly atop a tall midnight colored horse, she couldn’t help but agree with their first assessment- it was menacing indeed.

“Our transport for the evening?” She must have caught him off guard, as he turned with a faint smile to watch her approach, he couldn’t help but let his eyes linger a bit too long. He jumped from the stallion, feet thudding firmly on the ground. 

He hadn’t worn a hat, or else he would have removed it and greeted her properly. Instead he reached into the pocket of his long dark frock coat and presented a small bouquet of….

Daisies. 

Laurens eyes went wide as she slowly took them from his gloved hand. He didn’t say anything as she admired them, he was content to watch her. 

She gave him a weak smile. 

“I know,” he said, “you think it’s cheesy.” he smiled down at his shoes. 

“I only fear you’re about to murder me…or that this isn’t dinner, but in fact a date.” 

He shot her a wild grin, “If I were you I’d pick the latter.” he whispered. 

“I must pick?” she asked. 

“Unfair isn’t it?” his smile kept, “But yes officer,” he said gesturing towards the horse, eager to change the subject, “our transport for the evening.” 

Lauren approached the stallion with a kind of gentleness Kieran had never seen in her before. “The most beautiful transport I’ve ever seen.” she smiled running her hand down the bridge of the horse's nose. “But where on earth did you get a horse this time of night?” she asked.

“A good friend of mine, he works near the ports.” Kieran smiled at the memory. Him rushing back to the Rolts, only to pay Eli twice the amount, for the explosion and to loan out one of his finest studs for the evening. 

“Generous friend.” Lauren said under her breath.

“Shall we?” he asked. 

………………………………

They rode through side streets, careful to miss large crowds gathered outside pubs, but close enough to observe the festivities. The horse much like the rider himself, blended gracefully in with the dark background of the night time cityscape. Lauren had wrapped her arms around Kierans waist, a welcome gesture from him anyway. Lauren, though not having a terrible time, was less sure of the entire ordeal, she had the daisies still gripped firmly in her hand, as they bounced down cobblestone streets and out into the countryside, where stone streets met dirt and dirt met grass. 

“I thought I picked the latter?” she asked as they ascended a hill. 

Kieran chuckled, “Yet again officer. You disappoint me.” 

They ascended the grassy nome, littered with large oaks, Lauren could faintly see a light beyond their branches. The horse's ears thrust forward, gazed at the same flickering light that she did. She struggled to see fully beyond Kierans shoulders, writhing and twisting behind him. 

It was only then, that she caught the full glimpse of the enormous manor. Made completely out of white sandstone, it’s tall arches held delicate stained glass which reflected back only slivers of silver in the moonlight. The towering structure was eerily still apart from the candles that flickered in the lower window panes. Beyond the shivering lights were faces. 

“What is this place?” she asked as they sauntered closer to the entrance. 

“A kind of restaurant.” he responded. 

Kieran dismounted the horse, leaving his reins to be attended to by one of the footmen at the door. 

Lauren dumbfounded at the structure before her, crossed her arms and pouted in her place. “Where are we Kieran?” 

He moved backward, ensnaring her arm in his. “Dinner, Lauren. We are at dinner.” he said pushing her feet forward. 

“I think I’d rather have the place with bodies.” she whispered cynacilly. 

A waiter had shown them to a table, relatively far from the rest of the guests. Kieran removed his frock coat, eyeing the people who were watching them. 

Lauren sat and leaned across the table. “Don’t you worry about people seeing us?” she asked. 

“We’re coworkers, remember?” 

“But people know your face.” she stated. 

“Aye, but no one would dare give up my identity.” he seethed sarcastically. 

They were handed menus, and ordered food like two customary domestic people on a night on the town. 

Lauren sat in silence leaned back in her chair, admiring the low lit dining space. The few couples that were there, were dark lit, not smiling. Lauren noticed something rather peculiar about some of the other couples, there was paperwork strewn about their tables, on one a pile of cash. 

“Kieran, what is this place?” she asked for what felt like the hundredth time. 

He leaned forward. “It’s a restaurant,” “but it's also neutral ground.” he whispered.

She looked at him, “It’s what?” she demanded softly. 

“Neutral ground. No police are allowed in. No trouble is allowed to ensue. People are allowed to do business, without their identities or dealings being compromised.” 

“So I’m not supposed to be here?” she spat at him under her breath. 

“No, not technically.” he smiled.

She raised her eyebrows, “And PS members…” her voice trailed off as she averted her eyes to the tables. 

Kieran inhaled slowly, “Yes. The majority of people here are PS members, and whatever civilians they might be entrusting their business to, consider yourself one of them.” He picked up his drink, noticing the panic that seemed to weave its way into Laurens expression, “...now is not the time to be a detective Ms.Sinclair.” he spoke into his glass. 

She turned to scold him. “Because!” he interrupted loudly slamming his glass joyously on the table, “We have much more pressing matters to talk to tonight!” he clapped his hands together. 

Lauren visibly uneasy, readjusted in her chair, a failed attempt at seeming more relaxed. “I thought long conversation ‘bore the devil’ out of you?” she asked arms crossed.

He smiled at her memory, “They do. But this one seems important. So do share officer, what is your truth?” 

Lauren, though reluctant, summarized her dealings with Sake. She explained everything, everything she could comprehend. Anslows photo, the ‘rich’ family car, her parents death, Sakes involvement, her demotion. 

“It seems like you couldn’t have done much to prevent your parents death?” he asked. She went rigid her vision of him standing above her, bloody sword in hand, speaking those very words to her. 

She didn’t speak. Her eyes were transfixed on the white linen cloth beneath her fingertips. 

“That’s not all is it?” he asked. 

“I heard men talking that day in the train station, they were lying,” she looked past him, “I could have prevented it.” 

“Lauren you were you-”

“I sent a friend to his death, Kieran.” her face seemed to crumble, “I couldn't have prevented my parents death, but I could have prevented his.” Her fist balled up into the cloth. 

“How can you be sure that he’s dead?” Kieran whispered looking down at his hands. 

“Kieran, what does Belladonna Davenport look like?” she asked. 

He didn’t think he was capable of being surprised anymore, but he was wrong. “...pink hair...female, why?” he asked. 

Lauren had gone white. 

“I ran into Sake not long ago, I was...interrogating him in an alleyway and I don’t remember how he got away, but I remember a woman with pink hair, and when I woke up my head was throbbing. A-and when I danced with him, he mentioned that death was coming.” the words poured out of her as she watched the two figures enter the dining area. 

Kieran too had gone white, paler even. His line of vision had followed Laurens to the back of the dining area. It was Sake, and Belladonna. Arms encircled, not quite smiling, but not quite frowning either. 

“Kieran, he knows my face,” she breathed heavily, “He knows I’m an officer.” she said averting her eyes and twisting away from their general direction. 

Kierans hand went instinctively to his sword. His eyes no longer the gentle blue they were when they came in, they were fierce now...pensive. 

“Mr.White.” said a soft sultry voice from behind Lauren. She froze, as did Kieran. 

“Bella.” he said, faking a smile. 

Belladonna approached the table with Sake in tow. Sake smiled down at Lauren, a cover it seemed, from the fear he might actually feel. 

“Officer.” he laughed heartily, “Please tell me you know the man you’re having dinner with?”

At the word officer, all heads in the dining area turned towards the two. 

Lauren said nothing, but stared up at him, her eyes like a brimming wildfire, burning into his own. 

“For what do we have the pleasure Bella?” Kieran said, obviously attempting to keep his wits about him. 

Kieran flashed his eyes at Lauren, who seemed to be all too occupied with the scarred man, who dubiously avoided her gaze. He stretched his leg under the table, slowly easing his foot up Laurens leg, past her boots, under her skirts to the soft spot of her inner thigh. 

Lauren had grown visibly red, what the hell is he doing? She felt him tap lightly on the knives strapped to her thigh. She inwardly sighed, happy to know he was making other pronouncements. His foot retreated and in his place was her hand, pulling slightly on the daggers.

“An officer you say?” Belladonna asked her white haired friend, clearly ignoring Kieran. 

“Indeed. Don’t you remember? The very woman you hit over the head a few days ago?” 

Lauren hardly seemed to waiver at their words, but Kieran slitted his eyes at Lauren. 

“You mean the one you decided to spare?” Belladonna asked. 

Sake’s mouth turned up at the corner. “She saved me once, I felt it only appropriate.” 

“Did she save you twice?” her voice jumped in pitch. 

“She did not.” 

“Ah.” she said, faking a tone of sadness. “How unfortunate then.” Belladonna smiled, lucifer like. 

“Not a place to be making threats, however vague, don’t you think Bella?” Kieran asked, arm slung over the back of his chair. 

“No. Not the place. Not the place to be bringing police officers either.” she stared daggers at the assassin who looked visibly shaken. 

Kieran stood then, and Bella broke her hold with Sake, who bashfully took a step back like a tortured dog. 

“This is simply business Belladonna.” Kieran spoke slowly, trailing a gloved hand down the dip in her neck. “You of all people should understand.” 

“Maybe you're right. But have you forgotten what happens when one breaks the rule of neutral ground?” 

His caressing stopped and his hand went back to the hilt of his sword. His eyes a look of utter terror. 

“Not her.” he demanded. His face a look of anguish, over a simple fact he had forgotten. If any person breaks the rules of neutrality, their punishment was carried out by the prosecutor who found them guilty. In this case the prosecutor was Belladonna Davenport. Any other person Kieran might have been comfortable fighting, but Bella was different. She liked killing. 

It was her turn to caress, she lifted a hand to his cheek, and he flinched slightly, “My poor boy, love has made you blind.” 

Lauren nearly choked at the sound of her words. Kieran had turned towards her, “Lauren, get the horse and leave. Now.” he demanded of her as Belladonna had grabbed hold of his arm and torn from her waistcoat a gold dagger. 

“I’m not leaving.” she said rising slowly.

“I really would listen dear.” Bella said, tightening her grip on Kieran pulling his wrist closer to her blade “This is simply protocol.” she whispered into his ear. 

“You’ll kill him.” Lauren said steadily. “Venom. One cut and he’ll die.” 

Belladonna, obviously impressed, lowered her dagger slightly from the pulsing veins in Kierans wrist. 

“Perspective girl. But I am curious, what might an officer of the law have to gain with the purple hyacinth living?” she asked, “Must be very ugly business.” 

Kieran looked at her, blue eyes shining, with something like an apology. He mouthed the words go, to her, but she stood firmly. Her eyes darted to the hilt of Kierans dagger, catching her gaze, he placed a hand to it again. The three waited in anticipation- quite the crowd for theatrics aren’t they? Thought Lauren. 

“Because I’m in love with him.” 

All eyes fell on Lauren. Not just the three waiting to bite into her, but seemingly everyone in the restaurant. Waiters stopped pouring, people stopped their forks, chewing ceased altogether. Sake laughed, Belladonna scoffed, and Kieran. Kieran stood wide eyed, mouth agape, as if he had made a terrible mistake. 

Belladonna began to speak, when Lauren launched a dagger directly into her shoulder. She thrust backwards- her daggered hand gliding towards Kieran. He flinched, before unsheathing his sword and placing himself in front of Lauren while the entire room exploded. A couple spit out their wine, men stood erect, throwing their napkins to the floor. Footmen and waiters shouted. 

“BY ORDER OF THE PURPLE HYACINTH. STAND DOWN.” he demanded with a voice Lauren hadn’t heard since the cave incident. The room once again froze, apart from Sake who had advanced on the two. Kieran grabbed the man by the collar and thrust his blade directly below his throat. 

“Take one more step, and you’ll have another pretty little scar across your throat.” he whispered now drawing blood. The light had disappeared from Kierans eyes. 

“For the sake of neutrality.” he seethed, “but you’ll regret this. Both of you.” Sake spit into Kierans face. 

His sword dropped and he shoved Lauren to the exit. 

“The horse!” “Get the fucking horse!” he shouted at the footmen. 

“Kieran.” she whispered. 

She felt a hot liquid soak through the edge of her blouse where he held her. She ripped herself from Kierans grasp and looked down, dabbing her fingers in the wet material. Blood. But it wasn’t hers.

She grabbed his wrist, thrusting up his sleeve. A 6 inch slice had appeared on his forearm. 

“Kieran you’re cut.” she said hurriedly, putting pressure on the wound. 

“Get on the horse.” he said panting. He seemed to be already feeling the effects, his face beaded in sweat, eyelids heavy. “Take me to the apartment…” “...there’s an antivenom.” he said, his voice falling. 

He leaned on her heavily now.

“Help me! Get him on the horse!” she demanded of the men, taking a quick look back towards the entrance, making sure no one had followed. She could see through the window pane a wad of pink hair making it’s way towards them. They were no longer on neutral ground.

“HURRY!” she yelled. 

The two men thrust Kieran on top of the stallion and Lauren followed, easing herself in front of him. 

“Take off your coat Kieran. Wrap it around us, I don’t trust you to hold on.” She said gripping the reins and kicking the horse with her heels. 

“Demanding I take off my clothes are you?” he asked languidly, but doing as he was told. 

The horse thrust forward and into the night. Kieran had tried to hold on for the duration of the ride, but as the horse grew fast she felt Kieran lean more and more into her back. His arms losing strength around her.


	7. Blomst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made edits to the last part (05/21) whoot whoot

For some reason she felt breathless as they came to an abrupt stop at his apartment. She slid off, and Keiran came with, he was nearly unconscious. 

“No, no no no, Kieran!” she shouted, his eyes opened slightly. 

“Anti-venom.” he said softly, crouched on all fours on the cobblestone. 

Lauren unlocked the door and grabbed him under the arms dragging him into the home. How ironic, she thought, saving the purple hyacinth. 

“Where is it?” she demanded slamming the door. 

“The room.” he said breathlessly, his chest no longer heaving as he laid out on his back against the hardwood. His arm pulsing blood onto the floor. 

“Which room dammit!” she yelled cutting a slit up his shirt sleeves to reveal a cut so horrid she almost vomited. It had turned his arm black and green, his veins no longer a delicate blue, but deep deep grey, spreading out across his lean forearm like a doily. 

“On the hook.” he said, pointing weakly to a small screw near the stove, “A key.” 

Lauren rose quickly snatching up the key. The locked room, she thought. Why keep anti-venom in a locked room?

“Please don’t hate me…” he breathed as she made her way to the door. “Please.” he begged. 

She ignored his strange demand, barging into the room. She didn’t pay much attention to her immediate surroundings, except for the first aid kit that sat itself, dusty on one of the shelves.

She was running back to him, applying pressure once more on his arm, “...golden viper.” he breathed. 

She yanked open the box, fumbling through a wreck of unnatural first aid products. Vials of antivenom were strewn about the box, some already used. She found the one labeled GV- hoping to jesus it wasn’t some other strain. She ripped open the packaging for a syringe, and pressed it down into the glass bottle, tapping the contents before stabbing it into his arm and pressing. She watched his expression go from dull to duller. 

“Come on.” she pleaded. “Kieran, come one.” she said removing it from his arm. She grabbed his face in her hands, “Kieran please.” she begged, moving the skin on his cheeks and opening his eyes with her thumbs. She could feel his pulse begin to slow. 

Before tears could fall, she grabbed the first aid kit once more, and sent a silent prayer to her god when she found a vile labeled adrenaline in scribbled handwriting. She repeated the steps with the syringe, but this time ripped open his shirt, found the soft spot of his heart, and stabbed it down pressing the plunger. 

Kieran shot up almost immediately, his breath coming in heaving gasps. He took one wild look at Lauren who had jumped back, then another at his arm. His entire body shaking. His eyes averted to the door and then back to her. 

“You stabbed the purple hyacinth in the heart.” he said breathlessly. 

She couldn’t help herself, she laughed slightly through watery eyes. “Yes. Unfair isn’t it.” she said now crying. 

He laughed, cautiously eyeing the syringe in his heart. “You seem rather sad about it.” he asked slightly dazed. Not quite sure what to do with his sudden good fortune. “You gave me the anti-venom?” he asked, voice shaking. 

She nodded, “Good.” he said. “I’m going to lay down again.” he said, falling back against the hardwood once more, eyes open staring at the ceiling above him. 

………………………….

It was late in the evening when Lauren migrated from his room to the living area. Kierans' body seemed to be taking the effects of the anti-venom after the adrenaline wore off. He had heaved on the floor for a good hour before requesting her help that she get him to his bed. She removed his shirt, well tore it mostly, at which he made some snide remark and then fell back onto his pillow. She cleaned and wrapped the cut, the blackened veins still apparent. But the wound itself no longer bubbling like active cyanide. He didn’t say much to his pain level, other than he felt as if he would live. The anti-venom had a kind of numbing effect, making him fall effortlessly into sleep. 

Lauren on the other hand was wide awake. She had made coffee, and sat herself on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. 

Please don’t hate me. Please. 

Hate him for dying? Hate him for getting her into all this trouble? 

Because I love him. 

Lauren inwardly cringed at her words, it was less a confession and more of a distraction. But she couldn’t help the feeling like she wasn’t entirely lying either. She didn’t hate him. She had tried that many times and failed. 

Her eyes wandered back to the open door she had once tried cracking into. The purple hyacinth with more secrets. She didn’t know what she was expecting as she walked slowly into the room, information on his father's death, the PS, letters of great importance, swords, or whatever else. But she stopped dead at the sight of a framed photograph on a small writing desk. 

It was her. 

A black and white image torn from a newspaper, of her standing next to her uncle. She was younger, and she remembered the day well. It was the day he became chief constable, the police department had thrown a medaling ceremony. 

She practically fell down into the chair, yanking the photo up in her hands. Why. Was all she wondered, why have a dated photograph of Lauren on his desk. Of the purple hyacinth of all people, why was there a photograph of her in his home- in a locked room nonetheless. 

She heard a creak in the floorboards and the door to the room next over swing open slowly. She thrust the photograph towards her chest. Eyes unable to see anywhere but forward as the footsteps grew closer and stilled suddenly. 

“Lauren.” he called softly. 

She turned towards him slowly, frame in hand. “Why do you have this Kieran?” she asked, attempting to subdue the fear in her voice. 

His expression just as frightened, remained still. 

She rose quickly and bolted for the door. 

He ran towards her, and slammed it shut before she could flee. He was shirtless, breath heaving, eyes piercing down into her own. 

“Why do you have this?” she asked again, her voice shaking. 

He moved away from her to the kitchen. “I thought you would have figured it out by now.” he said quietly, running the faucet and splashing water onto his face and neck. 

“Figured what out?” she asked, still leaning against the door. 

“No wonder you got demoted.” he said under his breath, water dripping down his chest. 

“Have you ever thought about my name?” he asked looking away from her.

“Your name?” she asked wearily. 

“Kieran. It means dark-haired. And my last name...” 

Her expression didn’t change. 

“Or why I put flowers next to my bodies?” 

“It’s an apology.” she said moving from the door to the arm rest of the couch. 

Kieran rubbed his face in frustration, “Yes. But why the flowers?” 

“I-I don-” 

“Or why I brought you daisies?” he was panting now, eyes jumping to everything in the room except her, “Or why I was so surprised you didn’t know what the purple hyacinth meant the evening you asked me in the cave?” his voice was strangled now, desperate as he watched her, his body bent uncomfortably over the counter. 

“For Gods sakes, Lauren, my father! My father died at the hands of the Phantom scythe?” it was almost like he was begging her. 

“Or the fact that I didn’t kill you!” he shouted, his face collapsing. 

Lauren’s eyebrows furrowed, “That still doesn explain the pho-” 

No. 

No. No, no it wasn’t him. He had white hair, and he was dead. 

She was shaking her head furiously, strenuous breaths escaping her at a fast rate. She dropped the photo, pacing the house that felt as if its walls were closing in on her. 

Kieran too looked distraught. He rubbed his eyes roughly, and said through a cracked voice, “You did say that I’d kill more people than I’d save.” 

“Ren.” he whispered. 

……………………….

Lauren couldn’t move. Let alone breath, or think a coherent thought. The man standing before her- ruthless murderer, and savior alike was the very friend she was trying to avenge. 

When she spoke her whole body began to shake, fragile, in a way she hadn’t felt before. “Prove it.” she said through chattering teeth. 

Kieran laughed and approached her. With a gentleness that she didn’t believe he could ever possess, he kneeled down in front of her, his hands clasping around her own. She was sitting on the arm rest of the couch, looking down on him- but he didn’t look like Kiearn, or Dylan, he looked like a stranger. 

“Well this shouldn’t be hard.” he said looking up at her weary eyed and voice cracked, “my name is Dylan Rosenthal. I was given the name Kieran White as a pseudonym to remain protected under the Phantom Scythe.” he spoke gently, his thumb rubbing softly the palm of her hand, other braced on the armrest near her hip. 

She felt the sudden urge to recoil, but did not. He wasn’t lying. Not only could she hear the sincerity in his voice, but she could see it, in the way his eyes beamed into her own, pleading and apologizing in equal measure. 

“Something else, something only Dylan would know.” the demand poured out of her. 

His eyes opened wider and then closed them slightly, choosing his words carefully. “We made a promise that day. That you would be the best police officer the town had ever seen, and I would be a doctor. And we would save people, together.” his voice wavered on the word save. He knew just as well as Lauren did that he wasn’t the same boy kneeling before her now. If anything he was quite like a stranger to her, and a stranger to himself. He grimaced at the thought, looking down at his feet, still clutching her hand. 

He knew she would be hesitant to believe him, all the more reason he wanted her to figure it out on her own- she was strong and careful and she trusted her judgement over anyone else's. 

She rose suddenly, her skirts flying and hair twisting as she ripped her hand from his. 

“W-why. Why are you so smug!?” she yelled, “A-and arrogant!?” she shouted in his direction. Her walls were coming up. 

Her hands were flailing, an accurate representation of her thoughts, “You used to be kind and gentle hearted, and now you’re pompous and- and-” she stumbled suddenly over to his frock coat that lay against the back of the couch, reaching aggressively into his pocket for the small bouquet of daisies. 

She thrust them towards him- “Make a crown.” she demanded. 

“What?” he asked bewildered at her odd request. 

“Make. A. Flower. Crown.” she said slowly as if speaking to a child. 

He snatched them from her grip, and began tearing the stems into shorter pieces, piercing them through the buds. It took him a moment of fervent concentration, before he had finished and plopped it onto her head. “Beautiful.” he said with a wicked grin. 

“Shut up.” she said under her breath, obviously her point defeated, she pulled it from her head.

Lauren picked at the petals of the flowers, looking up at him reluctantly. A good 5 inches taller than she was, broad and scarred shoulders. Sweat- or was it water?- That glistened on the crook of his neck, dampening the strands of black hair where it touched it, curling its edges. The ribbon that usually held it together, now sad and lagging, leaving the mess of night to fall in sharp edges around his face. His trousers hung loosely on his figure, the hollow of his hip cast a shadow onto his pale toned stomach. It was dark out, but the full moon left enough light for her to see him clearly. He did hold a likeness to Dylan, if she looked closely at his eyes she could see the resemblance- they were brighter now, bluer too, but she had been often told that the sensitive gold in her own had become more fiery with age. 

But she had never imagined Dylan in this way- only as a boy. And the creature before her was a man, but if she thought hard about the way Kieran had smiled- big and bright and rare, or the way he wielded a sword if not always completely serious, and the way he teased her- she could see it then. She reached out, thoughtlessly, to touch the dampness on his forehead and brush away the black strands. 

“You’re altogether a human being.” she whispered, not quite sure what she was doing, but the feeling of his skin on hers, a welcome one. 

He smiled slightly, watching the emboldened woman before him. “You remembered.” he laughed softly, barely containing the pounding in his chest. 

“You made me read it.” she said, trailing her finger down his cheek bone. 

He inched, microscopily towards her, nodding his head slightly, afraid she might run off again and accuse him of things. “...jane eyre...” he whispered, “...I need not sell my soul to buy bliss.” he said softly and slowly, more to himself than her, “you hated it, as I recall.”

Her lips tipped up at the corners, “I did. It was hard to understand.” her hands fell to his neck, holding a moment, “and you loved it.” 

He admired her, “I still do.”

His resolve was breaking, her touch burned hotter than any venom could. The way she watched his chest rise and fall, her eyes like a flame behind a shade. He trembled from the soft yet dangerous way her fingers trailed down the line of his throat to the concave skin above his collar bone. She curled her fingers slightly into them, gripping the bone. 

She looked down, her hand falling, and stepping back from him. “So... I didn’t kill you?” she smiled half heartedly. 

His resolve shattered. He caught her roughly around the waist and was kissing her before she could take another breath. He was kissing her hard, so much that anywhere else on her body it might have left bruises. She hesitated a moment, registering the feeling, then clumsily wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing him to her. 

He grabbed her harder and walked her back against the edge of the couch, and she made a small noise in the back of her throat. He groaned, parting her lips with his own, his tongue begging a silent entrance against her mouth. He feared he was being too harsh, too rough, too demanding, and he broke the kiss urgently, their arms still entangled. She gasped, her eyes opening. 

“Lauren-” 

She pulled at him again. Pressing her lips softly against his this time, pushing the hair from his face. He could feel her reach out for his hand, guiding it and placing it softly on the buttons of her skirt. His heart lurched forward, as he fumbled with its clasp. He was the purple hyacinth most nights, but tonight he was a toddling fool.

Frustrated he went to his knees in front of her. She twitched in surprise at the feeling of his hands on her legs.

“The purple hyacinth on his knees, my, my.” she chuckled nervously. 

He looked up at her, shooting her a glare, “I am a subordinate am I not?” 

Lauren flushed at the thought. He was twisting the fabric and yanking the buttons free. He stopped suddenly as the skirt began to split open at the front. He placed a palm to stop it. 

“Lauren.” he gasped, resting his forehead against her. “Lauren I have to know,” he panted

“You said at dinner, you said you were in love with me,” he choked on his words, “Is that true?” he asked looking up.

She was still not entirely sure of her own words, but the pressure in her chest drove her response, her head nodding. 

“But did you love the man at dinner, or the man now?” 

She gripped his face in her hands, a force driving her, “Aren’t they the same person?” 

He ripped open the skirt throwing it to the floor. Hastily he stood and lifted the shirt from her body, but slowed his movements, taking time to let the blouse drop as he admired her. She had on a white satin bralette, and matching panties. A sudden heat spread through him, that started at his stomach and stretched to nearly every inch of his body. She was beautiful in the moonlight, her pale flesh, not dull, but bright like the face of the moon itself. Bones and muscle streamlined down her body. She wasn’t a traditional beauty, but her body was angular, delicate, but strong. 

She had had enough of his ogglings and reached for him again, impatiently. Her mind swam as his teeth nipped at her lips, frantically pressing firmly to the sides of her mouth, jaw and neck, his breath like steam on her skin. He pressed her harder against the couch and reached his hands below her thighs lifting her, his most sensitive part nudging against hers. 

It wasn’t her intention to start something so...hurried. But when she had touched him it was like something rare, something lost that she had suddenly found. When he kissed her, when he kissed her a fountain of pent up emotion had exploded inside her. She had suddenly recalled when he lifted her up on the table to nurse her arm. How in the small part of her mind, something wished he hadn’t let go, she wished that night that he’d pushed her down, and her inhibitions along with it. Or the many moments he had faced her in anger- how if he had only inched closer things might have been settled a different way. 

But now, the warmth of him around her, pressing her body strategically against his own, she wished it all away. The anger and torment were just simple strings to a greater crescendo. 

His hands came to her shoulders and pressed against her collarbone. He leaned in, lips just brushing hers. She curved against him, wanting to meet his own, softly.

“May I take you to bed Ms. Sinclair?” he asked through muddled words, his lips moving sensually against her own as he spoke.

She turned her head in response, kissing his throat, while simultaneously reaching her hands up and untying the ribbon from his hair. It fell away, a sharp black mess and he shivered at the gesture. Her lips moved from one side of his neck to the other, her hands grazing down his ribs following the cord of muscle to the hem of his trousers. With fervent hands she unbuttoned them, and pushed them from his hips. His hand came up to grip beneath her chin, turning her lips up to his once more as he stepped out of them.


	8. Carpe Diem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW- Finally.

Kieran lifted her completely, her legs easily wrapped around his waist, a motion that almost felt practiced to the two of them. He walked them to his bedroom, sitting down on the mess of sheets, Lauren in his lap. 

His hands splayed out on her back, his fingers working their way under the tie that held her bralette together, pulling the fabric away. She sucked in sharply and Kieran responded, pulling her closer yet again, her breasts pressed against his chest. Her hair fell around them, a burning curtain for their privacy as they kissed deeply. His tongue working in tandem with her own, their lips slow and measured. He reached a hand into her hair, his palm at the back of her skull pulling her towards him further, and they weren’t so much kissing as devouring one another. Hair wild, skin red with desire. 

She relaxed momentarily, her taut nipples brushing the hard creases of his chest. He seemed to notice placing a palm on one, massaging. She let a moan slip from her mouth and into his, and she was suddenly no longer on his lap. 

He was on top of her, his mouth on her breasts sucking gently at the peaks, his tongue rubbing slightly against them. A hard and hot feeling shot between her legs and she squirmed under him. She watched him, she watched the muscles in his back expand and contract as he seemed to pulse above her, mouth kissing whatever skin he could find. Her fingers slid into his hair, tugging slightly, urging him on. 

He moved his hands down removing the last of his clothing, and took hers along with it a second later. 

“Are you cold?” he whispered, his length pressed against the inside of her thigh, mouth laying kisses around the slope of her breasts. She could hardly build a response with the head of him nudging slightly against her folds. She wanted him, it didn’t matter if she was on fire, or freezing, she wanted him badly.

“No.” she whispered back, her fingers pressing against his back, willing a response. 

He smiled against her skin, “...your teeth are chattering.” 

“I’m not cold…” she complained, and quickly gripped her legs around him tugging, and with much surprise to the both of them, he was inside her. 

Kieran froze at the tightness around him, his own legs shaking from the sudden pleasure. She was warm and wet, and he leaned his forehead heavily against her chest, heaving out breath, eyes wide in shock.

“God... Ren.” he said, and began to slowly push himself deeper inside her.

She let out a strangled sigh, her head tilting back to look up at the ceiling. Her breath was coming in pieces now, her chest hitching erratically. She reached out for him again, and his elbows inched up beside her head, his own leaning down to kiss her gently, the strands of his hair tickling her above the eyes.

He made small pulsing motions, not quite thrusts because he knew if he were to hasten the feeling, it would be over too soon. He opted to admire her, and revel in the feeling of her lips on his, and the way she tightened her body around him. She moaned in frustration at his small effort, he was doing so little, and yet so much to her. She knew he was preserving what small amount of restraint he had left in order to build suspense, but she was near her tipping point with him. She wanted him to consume her, she wanted to feel his sweat on her chest, and hard and fast movements against her. 

She arched up and bit his lip, and as if in anger he pulled out completely and thrust back into her. She yelped in surprise, and he did the same nearly losing his composure. He was breaking, and Lauren liked it. She dug her nails across his back, up his neck and into his hair pulling at it so his head lifted. He moaned softly at the feeling, his eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. She lifted her head to kiss him, and he snapped. 

He planted his hands beside her, his tongue working into her mouth hungrily and his thrust becoming more urgent, more evenly paced, he lifted up the small of her back so he could feel the sweat that had built on her stomach slide against his own. The pleasure was mounting quickly, and Kieran could feel it inside her. With every thrust she grew tighter around him, her lips faltering and her grip on his hair loosening, she wasn’t so much breathing as moaning out his name quickly, a quiet plea. 

“Don’t, don’t stop. Please.” she said against his mouth. His forehead now slick with sweat, he could only manage a nod. 

“Ren.” he panted, his hips smacking into her, the bed shaking on its posts. He reached a hand up to the headboard to brace himself, the other still lifting her body against his as he slid in and out of her. He forced his body to tighten, to keep going. She was twisting under him, a fine sheen of sweat now covering her blushed body, her nipples hard, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open slightly as she moved with him.

“Ren, tell me when,” he breathed, “tell me when to come.” he panted above her, eyes glued to her collar bones and bouncing breasts. 

“Ah. K-kieran,” she said dragging him down onto her, she bit down onto his shoulder, the pleasure bursting inside of her, her body releasing, and her walls constricting around him. The feeling caused her to shake uncontrollably as he still moved inside her, she grabbed at him rolling him under her.

Her body smashed against his, willing herself to tighten around him once more, “come on,” she said weakly, panting equally as hard as the man under her, “come on... now... Kieran.” she said pushing herself up and down his length. His arms squeezed around her so hard she could barely move, his face buried in the crook of her neck. With every push she made against him he moaned harder, his breath hot against her skin, his hands clawing desperately at her back. 

She moved once more and he cried out as he felt himself release inside of her, his body shuddering under hers. His voice muffled by her skin against his mouth, the vibration of his cries sending shivers to her toes. His hips still pulsed as the feeling subsided. He reached a hand down to her ass and pressed firmly, making the jerking of her own body stop so his spasming could cease. 

It took him a long time to stop his twitching and calm his breathing. The woman on top of him like deep pressure therapy, the weight of her soothing him. 

She rested breathless on his body, head on his chest, eyes closed. Still inside her he stroked the crevasse of her spine. He only had to tilt his head slightly to lay a line of kisses down her neck, the taste of salt and sweat and skin on his tongue. He sighed deeply, lips pressed below her ear a moment before his head fell back onto the pillow. 

“You made a mess.” she cooed from her near slumber. 

“Where-,” he blushed, “oh.” he laughed slightly, watching her smile. 

He pulled out of her, his body twitching strongly as he moved to lay next to her. He pulled the thin white sheet above her body and leaned towards her, kissing the line of her cheekbone up to her ear. 

“I think that means we were successful.” he whispered. 

“Ah,” she smiled, tipping her mouth to meet his, “there’s the arrogance.” 

He ignored this and grabbed her tightly, fitting her mouth to his, moaning at the feeling, and drowning himself in the taste of her once more.


	9. Pars Mei Te Amat

Kieran sat erect in his bed, hair matted in all directions, heart pounding and a single thought coursing through his mind. 

HORSE. 

He looked around the room frantically, surprised to see the other side of his bed empty. He frowned, swiveling his head to look out the window to the pale morning light, hoping to see the black stud waiting for him. He had only slept a few hours, by the time he had regained his slice of consciousness from the anti venom it was nearly 3 in the morning, and by the time he had actually fallen asleep it was nearly 4. Even though it had only been a few hours of sleep, it had been the best rest of his life. He was warm, happy, glad to reach across the empty space and find the heat of her skin. 

His face reddened, and he lifted the sheet woefully, curious if Lauren had sunk to the bottom of the bed out of shame. He frowned again, and bounced out of bed. Pulling on a pair of trousers, his shirt was missing he noticed, and he burst through his bedroom door. 

The morning was beautiful, gold, and grey and misty outside, a faint rose color poured delicately through the windows, and it was there he saw here. Outside, his shirt loose on her frame grooming softly the black beast before her, her own breath coming out in a soft cool cloud. 

If he could only freeze this moment. To wake up to the woman of his dreams, who hadn’t fled but simply stepped outside to pet a horse. Her red hair tied up in a loose ponytail with his ribbon, strands of it bright from the sun, surrounded her face. 

This moment, he thought, this could be the last one. 

He walked slowly out the door, careful not to disturb the peaceful scene before him. 

“You found him?” he asked leaning on the frame. At the sight of her slim and tangible before him, the sudden urge arose to reach out and pull her against him, to kiss the line of her neck, her collar bones, her breasts, her lips. He pushed it down, content to watch her...for now. 

“He wasn’t far. I woke up in the middle of the night remembering I’d just abandoned him,” she laughed slightly, “he was in a nearby park, grazing.” she spoke softly, her back turned. 

Her shoulders had tensed at his voice, she had been happy to escape the house that morning, the stallion was a fine distraction to her whirling thoughts. She figured once she had woken up next to him, all the pieces would fall into place, but they hadn’t. She knew he was Dylan, but for the life of her she could not associate how he had grown up to be...him. What terrible thing must have happened to him. She thought seeing him in the morning she might smile and nestle herself closer into his body, but she was cautious, opting to wake up and stare at him instead- unconvinced by the night's previous events. He was surely good at it, and she remembered the way he kissed her, or said her name, and desperately clung to her, but she couldn’t help but cringe in some small way. 

Now her back turned to him as he most definitely watched her, she had no energy to turn around and face him, no matter his identity. She hoped slightly that maybe this would be a singular thing, but she knew deep down that it wasn’t and part of her didn’t want it to be anyway. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, not moving. 

She tightened the horses’ reins to the window bar, looking down at it. She shrugged, and looked shyly in his direction.

He squinted his eyes at the rising sun, lifting his arms high above his head and turned his torso like a corkscrew, a pop rattling down his spine.

He yawned lion-like “How about I make coffee, and you tell me all of your regrets,” he said, arms still stretched, “and then I’ll tell you what the actual, side effects of anti-venom are.” he joked suggestively, winking at her. She glared at him, and reluctantly followed him inside. 

……………………….

She was on the couch, eyes glued to the outside, sipping her coffee. He was in the kitchen doing the same. 

“Do you regret it?” he asked, not looking at her. 

“Which part?” she asked moodily. 

He laughed, putting the mug to his lips, “Would you like me to be specific Ms.Sinclair?” 

Her face flushed and she moved her mug to hide her face. He was walking towards her now, plopping himself down on the couch beside her, his gaze unwavering from the morning light. 

“Sure.” she said. 

His eyebrows rose momentarily and he took a large breath, “Last night, specifically between me getting poisoned and you waking up in my bed.” 

Lauren pondered a moment choosing her words carefully,“No, no I don’t regret it. I’m just... confused by it, is all.” 

“Confused by what?” he asked. 

“Last night you were so…” she could hardly bring herself to finish the sentence in his presence. She didn’t know what she was feeling, and she dared not incriminate herself into some kind of faulty feeling around him. She feared he was an idealist at heart. 

He looked concerned, “So... what?” he asked, halfway worried he had completely misjudged how the evening had gone. 

She sighed, “Gentle.” she said her jaw clenching as she looked down at her coffee. She could feel him smiling, and she hated it. 

“My, my officer, my heart is all aflutter.” 

“Don’t-” 

“You thought me incapable of being gentle?” he interrupted. 

“No,” she shook her head, “you’ve been gentle with me before. But it was something different this time.” she looked up gathering her courage.

She looked over at him, expecting he might understand, but his expression didn’t change. 

“It was like when I realized who you are, really, you became this other person, and the way you touched me, and spoke to me…” her voice dropped from embarrassment. 

He seemed to look away too, “It felt like a stranger.” he stated. 

“Yes.” she said quietly. 

“Well you said it yourself Officer, we’re the same person.” 

“I know, but it may take me awhile to bridge that gap- the last time I saw you we were just kids. However much I try and visualize… the real you... I come up short,” her breath was shallow, “everytime I try and imagine you as Dylan I see-” 

“Blood and murder and arrogance.” he finished for her. 

“I-” she started, but decided against it. He wasn’t completely wrong. 

He clasped his hands together violently, “Then who did you consent to make love to last night, Officer?” he asked, irritated. 

She looked over at him apologetically. “I don’t know.”

Kieran kept silent a moment, then stood suddenly, “Well then.” he said, hands on his hips turning in her direction. 

“This seems as good a time as any to end our association.” he said feigning some kind of charm in his voice. 

Lauren met his eyes with a look of disdain on her face.

“I’ve told you my truth and you’ve told me yours, I intend to keep my promise of you having to never see me again.” he stated. 

“Did last night mean nothing to you?” she said cynically, eyes slitted, a familiar look of anger. 

He inched closer to her, “It meant more than you will ever know,” he whispered in the same tone, “But I know you have qualms with it, I know you will never see me as who I truly am, and I wish I could change that. But I am not so stupid as to beg at your feet. I know that whenever you have to look back on last night, you will be ravaged with self-hatred for having slept with the purple hyacinth, not Dylan, not Kieran, but the fucking assassin,” he said bending down sharply to gather her skirt and blouse from the floor, “and I know what you said at dinner was a lie.” he said thrusting them into her arms. 

She stood and slapped him hard across the face, “Don’t you ever tell me how I feel.” She pulled the ribbon from her hair, and stripped in front of him. 

He was taken aback by her sudden nakedness, the familiar heat rising from his stomach, but was halted when she began to pull on her own clothing. He turned away from her storming passively into the kitchen resting his elbows on the counter, placing his head in his hands, not quite sure what to say or do. 

She had put on her last shoe and reached for the door but turned quickly towards him. 

Kieran looked up. 

“For what it’s worth, it meant something to me too.” she said slamming the door behind her.

Kiearn lifted his mug and swung it at the wall, the porcelain pieces shattering into a thousand bits. 

She half-ran down the cobblestone streets, memories of last night clouding her head, she banged a palm against the side of her skull, willing them away.

“GOD DAMMIT!!!” She screamed into the streets, tears pouring down her face.


	10. In Ignis Veritas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going back in time briefly....

Days Past

November 13 XX17- 10pm 

...............................

Dylan sat on the wood bench in the dark hallway. The light from the outside lamp post gleamed sharply through the window panes and onto the marble floors. 

He remembered waking up, orange and red clouded his vision, and bits of ash that fell gently onto his face. And it was slowly as if waking up from a dream he began to hear screams. Undecipherable screams. He didn’t know when the three men had approached him, let alone taken him, but he was here now. Waiting patiently as they spoke in a room nearby. 

He had two constant thoughts as he sat on the cold bench- his father and Lauren. 

It was then he heard footsteps approaching from down the hallway, he attempted to compose himself with a large breathe, his ribs protesting. He looked wearily up at the man passing by him-

“Mr. Sinclair?” he asked, the man stopped suddenly looking down. His eyes widened in what looked like surprise, but was more horror. 

“D-Dylan,” he said exasperated, “What on earth are you doing here?” he demanded quietly, suddenly dropping to a knee in front of the boy. 

Dylan had only known Tristan Sinclair from a distance, being introduced to him only once or twice, each time in the presence of Lauren's parents. He knew Lauren looked up to him as a police officer, but he couldn’t figure out why a heavy feeling settled in his stomach the moment he saw him. The men who had taken him didn’t look like police officers and seeing Laurens uncle now, neither did he. 

“T-there were men,” he said gesturing loosley at the closed door, “they found me at the station...after it blew...they said they could help me.” 

Tristan removed his spectacles, rubbing his brow nervously as he looked in the direction of the door. 

“Dylan you have to listen to me. Those are very bad men, who will not hesitate to kill you.” Tristan gulped. 

“Are you here to arrest them?” Dylan whispered, now panicked. 

“No. I’m here to meet with them- it would take too long to explain...” he said inching closer and taking another look at his surroundings. 

“Dylan, they will call you in eventually, and you cannot under any circumstances tell them your name. Do you understand?” he said, eyes large and pleading into the boys. 

“What name should I give them?” he asked, confused by his words. 

“I-I don’t know,” he said, flailing his spectacles in thought, his eyes landing on the boys hair, “White.” 

“White?” Dylan asked. 

“K-Kieran, Kieran White.” Tristan said hurriedly. 

Dylan only nodded, watching the trembling man before him. 

“And do not tell them why you were at the train station, tell them you forgot, the explosion made you hit your head, and you cannot remember. And if they ask you any other kind of question, say you don’t know. You cannot give them any information Dylan. Do you understand me?” he asked again this time more sternly. 

Dylan nodded again. 

“Tell me quickly what I just said.” Tristan was nearly breathless.

“My name is Kieran White, and I cannot remember why I was at the train station,” Dylan looked wearily towards the door, “T-the last thing I remember was the explosion and then waking up. Does that work?” he whispered. 

Tristan half smiled, “Yes. Whatever they say in there, remember I am also there, you must trust I’ll keep you safe.” he said again placing a hand on the boy's scraped knee. 

Dylan did not move. 

Tristan bent his head to meet the boys eyes, a look of pure sadness in them, “Do you trust me Dylan?” he asked again. 

He nodded and Tristan was off knocking slightly on the door before letting himself in.

Tristan stepped into the smoke filled room, Glenn Harlow sat at the large oak desk gnawing on the end of his cigar, which was full blaze- nearly on fire. 

“Officer!” he yelled joyously, “wonderful of you to join us.” he said sarcastically, turning a beady eye up at him. 

“Who is the shivering white haired boy in the hallway?” Tristan asked, gesturing to the outside. 

“Ah!” Glenn said, throwing himself back in his chair, “Potentially our newest recruit. Or corpse, I suppose.” 

“An orphan we suspect, we found him lying in the rubble after the explosion, poor little bastard was still breathing.” said another voice from a corner. 

Tristan turned to see Jeremiah Flemmings sitting in the shadow of a bookcase, another footman for Glenn and his endless errands. 

“Send him in would you.” Glenn spat. 

The door creaked open behind Tristan, sweat now beading on his forehead. 

“Oi. Come on in.” Jeremiah yelled. 

Dylan stood, legs sore, ribs cracked, but his shoulders back. He would not enter a lion den without his own share of pride. He walked into the room, nearly choking on the air he stood before an overweight man, his shirt hanging on by a few measly buttons, and his hair- a few strands at the most. The door closed behind him, breaking his stare. 

“Your age boy, what is it?” the man asked. 

“Ten.” he said

“And your name?.” he asked again, the cigar still wedged between his teeth, giving him an unnatural lisp as his tongue flicked against it. 

Dylan looked quickly at Tristan, then back at the man, “Kieran White sir.” he said quietly. 

“Tell me Kieran, what do you want to be when you grow up?” the man asked, tapping a finger on the table. 

He looked at Tristan again, “A-a doctor sir.” 

The man laughed heartily, Dylan looked at the men around him confused. 

“How would you like to do the very opposite?” he said, his offer all passive childish charm. 

“What’s the opposite of being a doctor sir?” Dylan asked. 

“Killing people of course!” he asked, his laugh turning more to a cackle. The men, apart from Tristan, joined him. 

“I don’t want to kill people... sir.” he said slowly, hand twisting in his jacket sleeve.

The man stood violently, his chair loudly hitting the wall behind him, taking the entire room by surprise. 

“I’ll give you a choice then Kieran,” he said angrily, removing the cigar from his mouth, “Would you rather kill people, or be the one getting killed?” 

“He’s just a child Harlow.” Tristan interrupted.

“He will be an assassin or nothing!” he shouted at Tristan. 

Glenn turned back to the boy, “It’s not so bad a life, learning to wield a sword, jump from rooftops, throw daggers, kill villains, restore peace to the city. Sounds a bit like a superhero does it not?” Glenn asked, eyeing the boy carefully. 

“I-I suppose it does.” Dylan said. 

Glenn waived a hand at him in dismissal, straightening himself and putting the cigar back in his mouth.

“Why were you at the train station?” he asked. 

Dylan swallowed, “I don’t remember sir. I remember an explosion and...waking up.” 

Glenn smiled wickedly down at the boy. 

“Fire makes anew.” he said.

Glenn’s reverie broke and he turned to the three men before him. “An orphan, however much an inconvenience, still needs a home- a mentor of sorts.” he said eyebrows raised at his compatriots. 

Dylan looked around at the men, all strangers it seemed. 

“I can take him.” said Tristan, attempting to not look too hurried in his response. 

“Wonderful. The Phantom Scythe thanks you,” he said sitting back down, “Mr. White meet your new father, Mr. Sinclair.” he said gesturing at Tristan. 

Dylan opened his mouth to protest but was shoved from the room, the door slammed in his face before he could speak. 

He leaned his ear on the door, listening to the conversation. 

“He will need training,” Glenn said, “I will line up his stay at Darnya for the 22nd, and transport for the 19th. Get him on the boat, and report back with a confirmation- the leaders will be happy to learn of youth within our ranks.” he said. 

“Darnya Sir?” Tristan asked. 

“Training camp, a loose definition, but a training camp nonetheless.”


	11. Veteris Venenum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ....still back in time.

November 19th XX17

“Mr.Sinclair where am I going?” Dylan asked.

He was in the foyer of the house he had once played in many times. It was often where Lauren and him would set out their rules and their territory for hide and seek. But this time, the place felt foreign, scary even. The door to the outside was swung open, torrential rain pouring down into the streets, making mud. 

Tristan was kneeling before him, tightening a hat to his head and a strap to a bag around his chest. 

“Darnya, it’s like a monastery. Do you know what a monastery is?” Tristan asked, not able to meet the boy's eyes. 

“Like with monks?” asked Dylan, slightly afraid. 

“Yes exactly, like with monks.” He said stuffing an orange and some kind of bread into his bag. 

“Sir I don’t want to go live with monks.” he complained quitely. 

Tristan stopped his movements. Finally looking at him in the face, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

“It won’t be so bad Dylan. They are nice men. You will get to go outside daily, look at the ocean, you’ll have three meals a day, a bed, horses you can ride, you’ll get to practice with a sword. You’ll make lifelong friends. It is better than any orphanage at any rate.” he whispered, more convincing himself than Dylan. 

“Lifelong friends?” he asked curiously. 

Tristan swallowed something hard in his throat, “Yes, there will be other kids of the same age as you.” 

Dylan looked down, “Will Lauren get to come visit?” he asked. 

“No. No I’m afraid not, it is a very private place. B-but I will send you letters weekly as to her health and what she’s doing. I will send food and books and pictures and things from the newspaper so you won’t feel so homesick.” he promised, gripping his shoulders hard. 

Dylan nodded slowly. “How long will I be there sir?” 

He released his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose. “7 years.” he said quietly.

“What!” he yelped, tears now rolling down his cheeks. 

Tristan grabbed his arms then, “Dylan you have no other choice. If they do not get word that you have arrived in Darnya they will seek you out and kill you, myself and Lauren too. You must trust it won’t be so bad.” 

Dylan shook off his hands, sucking up his tears and rubbing his palm against his wet cheek. 

“Are there flowers there?” he asked looking down at his feet. 

Tristan scooped him up in his arms, thrusting him to his chest, tears now brimming in his own eyes. 

“Y-yes, Darnya is well known for its fields of purple hyacinths.”

“Apologies.” Dylan's voice cracked, as he rested himself, eyes crying, against Tristan's shoulder.

“Thousands, thousands of apologies.” Tristan cried quietly, holding the boy closer. 

…………………………………

April 6th XX24

Tristan removed his pocket watch from his coat, now wet with morning mist, he checked the time eagerly, peering at the crowd of people exiting the ship. 

He had to strain his head to see all the faces, most covered by umbrellas, scarves and large hats. A dark mass, like a fast passing train, all blurred faces and black shapes. 

It had been 7 years, and Tristan wasn’t entirely sure if he would recognize the boy again- after all it would be a man he was looking for. 

“Mr. Sinclair?” said a voice to his right. 

Tristan turned his attention, and before him stood a complete stranger. If it weren’t for the cap and shoulder bag, he wouldn’t have recognized the boy. He had a mess of black-blue hair, and piercingly turquoise eyes shadowed by deep dark eyebrows. He was decorated in a long black wool frock coat, a scarf wrapped around his neck and boots that looked nearly torn to pieces, and a sword attached to his hip that fell just past his knee. 

“Dylan.” he said, reaching out to embrace the boy. He hugged back rigidly, not accustomed to such intimacies.

Tristan pulled away from him awkwardly. “Or...Kieran.” he said looking up at him. “Though I suppose that was not a very fitting name after all?” he laughed slightly gesturing to his hair. 

Kieran smiled slightly, gripping the strands of his hair, “No, I suppose not,” he dropped his hand, “I do know the color of my mother's eyes now.” he said attempting to make conversation. 

Tristan nodded, “A good color.” 

Kieran inhaled, letting out a large sigh, whipping his head around, “Is Lauren not coming?” he asked. 

Tristan went still in front of him, “Uh. No. Not today, she’s busy I’m afraid,” he reached out to take his bag, “I have an apartment set up for you, I figured we might head there now.” Tristan said changing the subject. 

Kieran followed, “I’m not staying with you in Grey Chapel?” he asked following in haste. 

“No, the PS has set up your own living arrangements, in a nice part of town.” Tristan stopped suddenly. 

“Dy- Kieran you must understand something, though you might already. You are aware that I am a double agent of sorts- are you not?” 

“I am sir. I had much time to ponder the idea.” he said, indicating a slighted tone. 

Tristan nodded approvingly, “Good. Then you must know that my identity- as a spy- cannot be revealed to anyone, even Lauren does not know.” he said. 

“I know.” he said, “But is there not some kind of danger in telling an assassin this information?” he asked. 

Tristan shrugged, “The PS knows of my dealings, they just believe I am more on their side than anyone else's,” he looked up at him. “A daft bunch if you ask me. But alas there are eyes and ears everywhere, keeping up aires is not an easy task.” 

“Kieran I don’t know what happened to you at Darnya, but I have been of the mindset that when you return you will want them destroyed as much as I do,” he said watching the man, “Am I correct in my assumptions?” asked Tristan. 

Kieran smiled, not a friendly or passive one, an evil one, something filled with anger and anarchy. A kind of smile that put Tristan on edge. 

“You are correct.” he whispered. 

“My proposal then- you will follow out the PS’s requests, abide by their rules, but I ask of you to work alongside me... in secret. I will protect you from the law and any suspicions, as long as you follow my orders. There is a strategy to destruction, do you understand?” Tristan asked. 

“Completely sir.”


	12. Necare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back in Present day....whoot.

Lauren had torn her board to pieces. Tearing photographs, the red twine in a knotted pile on the floor, papers strewn about the room. None of it mattered anymore, he had been avenged, and he would go on killing. 

She sat numbingly on her bed, peering out the window. The thoughts of their evening together on an endless loop. She remembered every sequence, so much so that she could repeat it step for step, touch for touch. Like a searing brand in her memory. 

The worst part, she would never see him again. There was no point in her going forward with work, other than to see Kym and Will, and do her meaningless patrols. But the PS would keep on going, he would keep working for them, and she would keep trying to stop him. She feared in the back of her mind, that eventually she may give up his identity. How one day, on a patrol, he would be caught- if not by her, someone else, and they would know him. How foolish he was to even consider working at the precinct. 

“Lauren?” said a soft voice from the door. 

She perked up, “What?” she said, irritated. 

Tristan opened the door slightly, a cup of coffee in hand. He looked briefly down at the mess on the floor, pursing his lips. 

“I made coffee.” he said, gesturing his cup. 

Lauren feigned a smile, “I”ll be down in a moment.” she said. 

He moved to close the door, but she stopped him. 

“What do you know about the Phantom Scythe uncle?” she asked. 

He sighed, “A great too many things my dear.” 

“And the purple hyacinth?” she asked

He was taken aback, his eyes big as they peered up at her from his spectacles. “I know he is a man,” he said, “who was likely dealt a horrible hand at life.” he tried to smile, closing the door and walking from it. 

…………………..

“The leaders are pleased with your progress.” said the masked man. 

Kieran sat, moping in his wooden chair, as his efforts were once again applauded by some beaked freak in a dark room. 

“Lune was a great threat to our organization.” the monotone voice said. 

Kieran kept quiet, something the masked man wasn’t particularly accustomed to. 

“We have a new mission for you.” he said passing a note over to Kieran. 

“Whose the lucky bastard this time?” he said. 

“Tristan Sinclair. You may know him as chief constable at the 11th, and also one of our own. He has proven useless to us these last few months, and is seemingly waning in his duties to the Phantom Scythe.” the voice said. 

Kieran hardly heard anything past ‘Sinclair’. Frankly he couldn’t hear or think of much else. Other than the eradication of the one man that had kept him safe, and given him an ounce of sanity over the last years. The only hinge that kept him tied to the real world, he was now ordered to remove.

“We are aware that you have close ties to Mr. Sinclair, but your duty to the Phantom Scythe is first and foremost. I trust you understand this.” 

Kieran threw on his hat, and stood suddenly tightening his coat. “Completely sir.” he stormed out of the building. 

…………………..

Kieran ran down the streets, feet thundering against the ground, past the huddles of people begging on the streets, and the men and women who ignored them willfully. His vision white hot with worry and confusion. Even if his inevitable destination was hell, he couldn’t kill him. Admittedly his first thought wasn’t the death of Tristan, it was Lauren. She would hate him, more than that- she would come after Kieran himself. Wielding as many pistols that she could get her hands on and shooting his skull with as many bullets as she had. 

He had to tell him, he had to reach Tristan. 

He turned violently down a street, “Going somewhere sir.” said a deep voice from the smoke beyond him. 

Kieran halted hands in his pockets as he watched a familiar scarred face emerge from the smoke. The assassin smiled, a punching bag he thought, exactly what he needed. Tim Sake stepped before him. 

“I’m sorry did you ask me something?” Kieran asked, shoulders tilted back, smiling.

Sake smiled at his aloofness. “I asked if you were going somewhere.” now facing Kieran directly. 

Kieran looked behind the man, raising his eyebrows and lifting a finger to point behind him. 

Sake chuckled, “You may recall a few nights ago, I mentioned you regretting breaking a rule of neutrality. Also inflicting pain on a dear friend of mine, while in tow with a certain officer.” 

“Yes, I remember.” Kieran said, hands back in his pockets. 

“I can’t help but wonder why Ms. Sinclair was there in the first place?” he asked to himself, “I know her personally, quite personally in fact, and she is not the type to stray far from her own morals, or the law it would seem.” 

Kieran remained quiet. 

“I wonder, why on earth was she having dinner with the purple hyacinth, on neutral ground?” he asked, but Kieran said nothing, “You easily could have given up your true identity, is she working undercover with you perhaps? Something the 11th may be intrigued by?”

Kieran fumed on the inside, but kept his composure. Sake noticed quickly, the tightness in his jaw.   
“And that also begs the question, are you working undercover as well?” he asked, smiling, peering at Kieran closely.

Sake laughed, “I believe I have in fact found your achilles heel, Mr. White,” he sighed,“And a woman, nonetheless.” 

Kieran stepped closer to him, his eyes now their darkest, “If you wouldn’t mind Mr. Sake, I was just given orders to murder someone. I’d like to carry on with my duties. And currently you are in my way. Which means if my orders aren’t carried out in a timely manner, well... you shall be my reason for delay.” 

Sake said nothing, but glared into his eyes. 

“Have you ever seen what happens to those that delay the orders of the Phantom Scythe?” he asked quietly. 

“I haven’t had the pleasure.” Sake smiled. 

“Care to guess?” smiled Kieran. 

“Are you always this ridiculous?” he spat. 

“Yes.” Kieran smiled, walking past him. 

Sake turned to follow him, but stopped dead in his tracks. Outstretched, tickling his adam's apple was the tip of a sword, clutched tightly by Kieran on the other end. 

“I’m the one who removes those who delay the Phantom Scythe, Mr. Sake.” He tipped his sword up below his chin, tilting it slightly, perpendicular to his throat. 

He moved closer, sword still against his neck. “And my great weakness may be a woman, but I will murder twice over my entire career to protect her. It is a dangerous thing to get between a man who is trained to kill and the one thing he loves most. Because the killing quickly becomes a necessity.” he said calmly. 

Sake smiled, “You apparently don’t know me-”

Kieran shoved him against a nearby wall, stopping his words, his sword protesting to dig further. “I may work for the Phantom Scythe Mr. Sake, but do not forget I was trained by men far more evil.” he said, removing his sword from the panting wide eyed man behind it. 

“Belladonna will find you both. You will be revealed by the weeks end.” he spat as Kieran began to move away. 

Kieran turned, smoke catching on his figure, still close enough to speak quietly. “Belladonna may have her venom Mr. Sake, but I have vengeance- there is no antidote for that.”


	13. Diffidentia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHOrt. so sorry. gonna be a lot of these.

Lauren had been stuck up at her desk most of the morning. It had been a week since she had been with Kieran, and heard not a word from him. 

Kym sat herself down on the edge of Laurens desk, eyes darker than usual. Will peered from the side at his own desk, attempting to eavesdrop. 

“Did you hear about Kieran?” she asked, at that Laurens eyes shot up, and Kym smiled devil like. 

“N-no I didn’t.” Lauren said, “I assume he lost his job though?” she asked, gesturing to the rest of the office.

Kym toyed with a pen on her desk, weaving it between her nimble fingers like a dagger. “Well yes, obviously, he hasn’t been here for a week.” she said coyly. 

“I mean the other thing.” she said, eyebrows raised dramatically. 

“What other thing?” Lauren smiled suspiciously.

“Something very peculiar indeed.” she said pen still spinning, “I had managed to suck from the little teat that he had feelings for a certain officer.” 

Lauren flushed. 

“Ahh-haa. So you were aware of his feelings?” Kym smiled. 

There was no use in lying to her friend, “Yes, Kym I was aware.” she smiled looking down distractingly at her pages. 

She jumped to her feet in a whirl, “And you didn’t think to tell me! ET TU BRUTE!” she said swinging the pen around and pointing it at Lauren accusingly. 

“Kym!” shouted Will, attempting to look consumed in his own papers, “Do lower your voice.” he said sternly, but not quite seriously.

She spun around, “Our friend is in love with a certain unemployed archivists and you sit idly by-”

“I’m not in love with him Kym,” she interrupted taking a staggered breath, “I just... knew he liked me, there is nothing more to the situation.” 

Her own words tasted like poison in her mouth. The memory of him still fresh in her mind. 

Will sat back in his chair, a reverent smile on his lips, “See.” he said at Kym, arms crossed in triumph. 

“Both of you. So quick to reproach my own observations, it is betrayal indeed.” she said sadly, putting the pen back in its place. 

“You may not be in love with him, but I have other presumptions about his feelings, I don’t believe just any man would get referred by the chief constable himself.” she said trotting back to her desk. 

“He what?” Lauren shouted, quickly calming her demeanor at her own reaction. Both Kym and Will shot up their attention back to the red head, their faces twisted in curiosity. 

Kym turned on her heel, leaning gracefully against her desk. “Now she’s interested.” Kym smiled. 

Will’s eyebrows furrowed at his friend, but also smiled slightly, blushing at the sight of her. 

“Hermann. He said Kieran was referred to the position by none other than Tristan Sinclair.” Kym ran back up to Laurens desk, leaning over it, eyeing her friend. 

“It seems your association is deeper than you let on...officer.” she said mocking an interrogation. 

Lauren took a quick look at Will and then back to Kym. “Kym I swear I had no idea they even knew of each other's existence. If anything it’s a little...off putting.” she whispered the last part. 

Kym rose, eyes settling. “Interesting.” she said, walking back to her desk once more. 

“Something worth investigating, officer?” said Will languidly from behind his many files. 

Kym smiled, ruefully at Will's sudden interest. 

Lauren couldn’t help herself. The last week had been a dreadful bore. No investigations, no keeping Lune a secret, no PS activity, no Kieran and now this. It was like candy to a baby- intoxicating, addictive, and thrilling all the same. She racked her brain, fear molding itself slowly inside it. Her uncle was not a stupid man. Kieran had managed to keep his identity concealed for his time at the precinct, but after all there had been a reason he was tasked with the job. Someone knew his identity, and Lauren now ridden with a kind of panicked curiosity, began to suspect her uncle. Potentially a member of the PS himself. Pieces began to stitch themselves, slowly, slowly, together.


	14. Desiderabilis Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back in time.....

Sometime in the past.....

“Let me in, Lucy!” Kieran demanded from outside the door, banging his fist on the boards of oak. 

“Lucy!” he shouted again, ear pressed against the door listening for the familiar taps. He felt it cave in slightly, his head faltering. He shoved the door open, the maid behind it not surprised by his oh so physical presence at the house. 

He jumped into the foyer, shaking off the rain like a wet dog. “Where is she?” he demanded, frantically looking about the rooms.

“Lauren!” he shouted up the staircase. 

“Mr. White you are not supposed to be here.” Lucy said hurriedly. 

He grabbed her by the shoulders, smiling down at the woman. “To hell with it. I have waited long enough, I need to see her!” he beamed, looking around again. 

“Laur-”

“Kieran!” a voice shouted from the drawing room. 

“Good god, I have the worst timing,” he murmured under his breath, he turned to the maid, “is he always home? Does the man not have hobbies?” he asked begrudgingly. 

The old woman shrugged as Tristan stormed into the foyer, clutching papers and a coffee mug. 

“Lucy, for god sakes we’ve been over this. Do not let him in.” Tristan said, ushering the woman out of the room. 

“I am impossible to resist Mr. Sinclair.” he smiled, hands now clasped behind his back. 

“I want to see her.” Kieran said with a kind of finality. 

Tristan lifted the back of his hand to rub his brow, “I am well aware Kieran. You have been here countless times in the last...many years voicing your demands.” he said irritated, moving to usher the black dressed boy into the drawing room. 

Kieran halted, “And everytime I am turned away. She is not busy and gone all the time Tristan. I am not an idiot.” he said quietly now, blue eyes piercing into Tristans.

Tristan let out a long sigh, “Would you let me explain?” he said, peering up at the staircase, confirming his niece's absence.

Kieran reluctantly followed him into the drawing room, plopping himself down in an oversized armchair near the fire.

“I simply want to see her, and speak with her a while Tristan, maybe hug her. There cannot be any harm in that.” he said pleading. 

“There is more harm than you think.” He said, filling his mug from the french press, his face contorted. Not prepared for the conversation he was about to voyage into with the settlement's best assassin. 

“Do tell.” Kieran said impatiently. 

“Well you’re aware that you could compromise both our identities, are you not?” Tristan asked. 

“We have each gone to great lengths to protect them. She would never find out. I would only reveal myself as Dylan.” he said wearily looking up at the man. 

“And what do you think would happen when you do that?” Tristan asked, eyes glazing restlessly over the fire. 

“I-I assume she would be pleased, maybe surprised... I do look a bit different.” Kieran said fingering his black locks. 

“And you would conceal yourself from her after that?” Tristan asked. 

“I-I...” he couldn’t say that he would. 

“Exactly. Kieran, she is a police officer, and you are not a particularly lawful citizen. She is bound to find out. She would be suspicious of your sudden reappearance.” he said under his breath. 

“No she wouldn't, she's aware that I’m back.” he stated, looking thoughtfully at Tristan. 

Tristan swallowed hard, his lips pursed. 

The heat from the fire had grown hot, like needle pricks against Kierans knees. He watched the man more closely. 

“She is aware that I’m back isn’t she?” Kieran asked quietly, staring daggers into the man who attempted to pay little attention to him. 

Tristan looked down at his mug, “She thinks you’re dead.” he said into his coffee. 

Kieran stood abruptly, causing Tristan to jolt in his seat. He raked a shaking hand through his hair. 

Tristan turned to him, “It was not by my own accord, Kieran. She believed you were dead the minute the explosion hit.” he said attempting to calm him. 

“That was fucking years ago!” he shouted at him. Face now red in anger, “how could you not tell her!?” he yelled again, “You-you knew….why!?” he shouted pacing the room. 

Tristan took a large breath, “It is better this way Kieran. In truth... she has been investigating your death. I felt it better if she pursued what she would inevitably find to be a dead end.” he spoke softly. 

Kierans' eyes were wide in sadness, his eyebrows taught in disbelief, “A dead end!?” he yelled, heart beating out of his chest. 

Tristan stood, now furious. “Yes Kieran, a dead end. She has spent her days and nights at the precinct looking for the men- the very dangerous men- who killed Dylan Rosenthaal. Not Kieran White, and not the Purple fucking Hyacinth!” he shouted, approaching the assassin. 

“What do you think would happen, if she found out?” he said, leaning in closer to Kieran, “she is Lauren Sinclair, my blood, my family, she will not blindly accept your identity or your occupation. She is an officer first and foremost. What do you think would happen?” he yelled close now, teeth pressed hard together.

“I-” 

“She would turn you in, like the assassin you are. She would compromise not only your identity, but mine too. All the work we have done up until now, would be ash. But better yet, she herself would be killed- unmasking the Phantom Scythe’s long rewarded assassin does come with some price.” he seethed, spitting at Kieran. 

He backed away, now aware of his own tone, “I do not care if you watch over her, but do not contact her Kieran. And do not come back here. You are putting her in danger.” he said moving back to his chair. 

Kieran was pressed against the bookcase. There was truth in his words, hot, sharp and painful truth. 

At that moment the door to the drawing room opened. 

“Uncle?” said a voice, a delicate, familiar voice. 

Long red hair popped through the open door, eyeing the room, gold landing firmly on Kieran. Who stood stock still, watching her. Adoration and worry plastered on his face. 

“O-oh, I wasn’t aware you had company. I’ll leave you.” she said departing quickly. 

Tristan let out a long sigh, looking over at Kieran, whose eyes were trained firmly to the closed door. His face seemed to sink, she hadn’t even recognized him. 

“Please, get out Kieran.” Tristan said, rubbing his eyes.


	15. Veritas

It was a painful memory to recall as Kieran lifted his fist to tap on the door, like he had so long ago did. It was a familiar pain that shot through him now, but he was not the same man he was then. He would not bounce into the foyer asking for Lauren, it was a much more serious matter, and he was a much more serious person. Who was entirely convinced that Lauren would shoot him if she had the chance.

A familiar face opened the door in front of him. The poor maid went rigid at the sight of him. Her eyes combing up and down him, his black hair wet and in sharp angles in front of his eyes. His coat covered in a layer of dew, menacing and dark, and emboldened before her. 

“M-Mr. White.” she said exasperated. Kieran made no move to enter the house. 

“Lucy.” he smiled slightly. 

“Mr. White you cannot come in.” she said sternly, looking about the outside for any onlookers. 

Kierans' jaw clenched, “I am not here to see Lauren, I need to speak with Tristan. It is urgent.” he said, a tinge of regret in his voice. 

Lucy, worried as always opened the door wider so he could enter. Kieran stepped into the foyer, averting his eyes from the trappings in the house. Too many bad memories he was not interested in looking at.

“I will fetch him.” she said softly departing from the room. 

Kieran stared down at his feet, until he heard footsteps entering. 

Tristan's walking ceased as he saw the man before him. He was surprised when Lucy had came to get him, telling him of a familiar man in his house. He didn’t feel the same kind of waning impatience this time, instead it was fear. White burning fear as he anticipated his reunion. 

He was taller, broader, and darker than ever. His eyes held no more light, his clothes drenched, hat and boots tattered. He looked as shocking as he did the day he got off the boat. 

Kieran tightened his jaw, “Mr. Sinclair.” he said cooly. 

Tristan with an apparent look of disdain on his face, ushered him into the drawing room. 

Kieran sat down.

“Whiskey?” Tristan asked.

“That’s quite a change from coffee.” Kieran stated.

“Not much of a change. I simply assume the occasion calls for it.” he said slowly pouring himself his own drink. 

Tristan sat down, spinning the liquor in his glass. 

Kieran looked over at him swallowing. “I was instructed this morning to kill you.” he said. 

Tristan smiled and laughed shortly, “Those bastards.” he chuckled and Kieran smiled at his reaction. 

Tristan looked thoughtfully at the boy next to him, “Well. Duty is duty I suppose.” 

“Are you recommending I actually do it?” he smiled concerningly.

Tristan laughed, “Have you not wanted to all these years?” 

Kieran took a large breath, leaning back in his chair, “I have thought about it, but I’m afraid Lauren-” 

“Ah. I see.” Tristan interrupted, “Quite a vice my niece has on you.” he chuckled. 

Kieran didn’t respond, but simply smiled down at his lap. 

“Well done eradicating Lune by the way-” 

The door to the drawing room burst open, the two men inside stood in surprise. Kieran immediately flushed, his eyes as wide as globes, and Tristan's mouth agape. 

Laurens eyes flashed from Kieran to her uncle in a sliver of a second. She had gone speechless. Her interrogation that she had prepared upon her departure from work, now dissipated into thin air. 

Tristan seemed to relax before the other two, who held a tight and angry gaze. “Well. I suppose now is as good a time as any.” he said draining his glass in one gulp. 

……………………

Lauren had fumed, rejecting Kierans offer of his seat, to stand arms crossed utterly pissed in the corner. Kieran kept a safe distance away from her, leaning against the opposite book shelf, eyes looking anywhere but at her. Tristan back in his chair with a full glass of whiskey. 

Tristan met Kierans weary gaze, then back over to Laurens. 

“Well. Lauren, you know Mr. White.” 

“Unfortunately.” she seethed, looking at him through slitted eyes. 

They were all silent a moment longer. Tristan looked at Kieran again. 

“I’m not telling her.” he said, baffled. 

Tristan let out a long sigh, turning to stand his back to the roaring fireplace.

“I believe she may already know.” Tristan said softly, looking over at Lauren carefully. 

“You’re working together.” she said, the blood pooling in her face. Tristan nodded slowly. “How long.” she stated. 

“A while, dear.” he said softly, attempting to calm her. 

“How long.” she said again. 

Kieran rolled his eyes, “Tell her Tristan. Tell her everything for Christ sake.” he said, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Tristan finished his drink yet again. “By now I assume you know he is Dylan Rosenthaal. Something I have known for a while,” he said refilling his glass, “I have been a double agent of sorts for the PS. I found Dylan after the explosion at a meeting of apostles, I have been mentoring him ever since.” 

Kieran scoffed, “Mentoring is hardly-”

“You knew he was alive?” she interrupted. 

Tristan ignored this. “I have been working on a long winded mission to infiltrate the PS from the inside. Something that has been in progress since before your parents death, Lauren. The PS has a nasty habit of taking in orphans as potential future members, Dylan being one of them. I just so happened to recognize him that day, and took on the responsibility of acting as his guardian, a fellow PS member who would take him in...of sorts,” he looked up at Lauren, expressionless. “When it comes to orphans, they’re disposable, if their training does not...work out, they are removed from the organization, they are an easy resource. He had no other option but to comply with their plans, it was that or death. He was sent to a training facility, and returned 7 years later. I made him a deal when he came back, that he would carry out his duties for the PS, but work alongside me, a give and take relationship of deceit against the PS, in exchange for protection against the law.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me he was alive?” she asked again. 

Kieran smiled up at her slightly, a sense of pride flooding his heart. 

“When you entered into the police force, you were so hell bent on finding his killers. I knew that if you knew his true identity, you would never forgive yourself-”

“That doesn’t matter.” she nearly shouted, “I spent five fucking years wasting my time on someone I thought was dead.” she yelled. 

“And what if you found out who I really was?” Kierans' voice interjected softly. 

Lauren was taken aback, “W-what?” she was startled. 

“If he had told you the truth, about who I was. How I had lived, and reappeared as an assassin for the PS, what would you have done?” he asked. It was a question he had been longing to ask for years now. 

“I-I don’t know.” 

“You would have arrested me, Lauren, you would have hated me. He kept me a secret to protect you.” he said softly. Tristan looked at him apologetically. 

“I didn’t arrest you when you made me the deal.” she spat back at him. 

Tristan interrupted. “Lune, was not part of the plan,” he said, fiercely glaring at Kieran, “He was ordered to stay away from you Lauren, by me I admit, but when he encountered you in the alley it was completely out of my control. He only came to me afterward and convinced me that you may be better off helping, than spinning your wheels at the precinct.” he said quietly, “Up until then he had simply been watching, staying a safe distance. Lune, was his idea of giving you a glimpse into what was happening, a way he may keep his own identity a secret and attack the PS in the process. A plan that seems to have spun dramatically out of control.” his voice rose still glaring at Kieran, “and one I had eradicated soon after.” 

Lauren sat herself down on the chair near her uncle. “You watched me for years, cry myself to sleep, because I believed I sent my friend to his death. You watched me pour over file after file, interrogation after interrogation, knowing I would find nothing. ” she wasn’t so much asking, as simply stating some horrible fact. 

“Lauren it was to protect you from the Phantom Scythe, from our own dealings.” Tristan begged ardently.

“I don’t care about the Phantom fucking Sctyhe. Can’t you see, can’t you both see it was never about that!” She shouted rising again. 

“It was about him!” she screamed pointing a finger at Kieran. 

“I-It was about him.” she said, more subdued. 

Kieran’s heart thumped with her words. “Maybe I would have arrested him, maybe I would have hated him, but at least I would have known the truth. At least I could have done away with all that fucking pain and guilt and work.” She moved to open the drawing room door, “If he’s a fucking assassin so be it, but it will always be a far, far better thing to me that he is alive, then rotting in some rubble of a train station because of me.” 

She moved to walk out, but turned suddenly, “You should have told me Uncle.” she stated, then turning to Kieran, “And you. You should have told me the truth sooner.” 

Kieran opened his mouth to protest, but she was out the door, the oak slamming in their faces. 

Kieran let out a breath he had been holding for too long, Tristan doing the same. 

Tristan twirled his drink, “I suppose it was a good thing we did not bring up you being ordered to kill me.” 

Kieran almost smiled at the thought, “We’ll tell her later,” he stated, “I think for now you are better off alive.” Kieran nodded his head in Tristan's direction, opening the door to the drawing room and ascending the steps he had so longed to do.


	16. Me Delictus

It took him a deep moment of recollection to identify her room, he pushed the door open slightly, 

“Lauren.” he said calmly, peering inside. 

She stood over a mess of papers, most ripped to shreds, others still well intact. 

“Get out of my room Kieran.” she hissed, eyes glued to the rubble below her. 

He didn’t listen, he budged the door open further, stepping in quietly and closing it behind him. He stopped suddenly at the sight on the floor. There were pictures of the train station bombing, newspaper cut outs, the image from Anslow, ones of her parents, some indecipherable, but the message still clear. 

“Lauren I’m sorry.” he said, eyes gleaming down, mirroring her own. 

She stilled with a kind of disappointment. “It’s ironic isn’t it.” she said softly. 

Perplexed he asked, “What is?” 

“My entire life I have had inscrutable evidence against those that have betrayed me. Evidence that they have in fact betrayed me.” she looked up at him. 

“Come to find everything I knew to be true, was a lie. Only to find out that it wasn’t my enemies that betrayed me, not Sake, or really even the Phantom Scythe, but those that I loved most. The ones I suspected least.” She beamed into him, causing his frame to jostle as he listened. He flinched at the word love, and it’s context. 

“It really was all for nothing.” she said sighing, with a smile of someone that had just blindingly accepted their own execution. 

Kieran, desperate to hear something cheerful, grabbed her arm, she hardly reacted to the feeling, and his gumption subsided, carefully grabbing her other and turning her towards him. 

“It wasn’t all a lie, Lauren. You are right, there have been strings that have been-”

She cut him off, lifting herself on her toes and kissing him. She rested a hand on the lapels of his coat, her lips moving carefully, she watched as he closed his eyes and leaned into the feeling. Whatever apology Kieran had conjured was obliterated by the feeling of her mouth on his, her tongue flicking against his own in a slow dance, her breath warm and comforting. He wanted badly to walk her back against the bed, and repeat the steps of their previous night together. But the patient and almost apologetic way she kissed him, and cradled his head in her hands, made him think otherwise. 

After a long moment she broke the kiss softly, Kierans eyes protesting to open, his mouth hung open slightly in surprise. 

She gave him a wry smile, “You are complicated, and greatly misunderstood by many people including myself, and I’m sorry for that. But I cannot stand idly by waiting to see in you the person I once knew. I will be waiting my entire life, for the boy who loved me and gave me flowers. You are alive and I am happy for it, but I fear I will never truly understand this.” she whispered, turning away from him. 

“Lauren I l-” 

“Please go. I don’t want to see you any longer.” she whispered, not able to meet his eyes. 

Kieran, heart and spirit crumpled in anguish, leaned down to the mess of evidence on the floor, nimble fingers reaching to a select photograph. It was him, his face turned back in a wide smile, hat on crooked, white hair jagged and playful in the summer air. He remembered the day well, in his short life, it had been one of his happiest. 

Eyes trained firmly to the image, he handed it back to Lauren. His jaw clenched tightly as she took it. 

He looked up at her then, tears teetering on the edge of his blue corneas. “I’m sorry for your loss... I truly am.” he said, voice cracking as he turned quickly, eager to hide his face and escape the house that had suddenly brought so much pain. 

………………….

She spent the evening slowly, mindlessly wandering her eyes over the photos that were now torn, and repeating the image of him, walking as if someone had strangled him out her door. She recalled holding up the image of him after he had gone, and how the likeness was now more similar than she had ever seen before. How he felt, deeper than most people did, and how the glass mask he always wore, had seemed to break in the last week. It’s final shatter with her own words of disdain against him. But despite her feelings, and his own identity, that was not what her brain was racked with. It was the man down stairs, who was probably sipping whiskey by the fire place. The man who now knocked on her door, and hesitantly made his way inside without waiting for her response. 

Tristan sat down in the wood chair near her desk, inhaling sharply as he did so. They sat in silence a moment, staring at the darkness that poured through the windows. 

“I’m sorry Lauren.” Tristan said, loudly and with a kind of directness that he reserved for employees. 

Lauren turned, “What for exactly?” she asked, shoulders back, prepared to handle what was to come. 

“I know you may think because of who I am, that it was my fault for your parents death. It was my fault for whatever follies the Phantom Scythe was a part of, Allendale, the many murders of Kieran White. But I hope you believe me when I say that I had no control over most of what the Phantom Scythe did.” he said, elbows rested on his knees, “In fact I have been such a bad spy, that Kieran was ordered to kill me this morning.” he chuckled briefly. 

“He. W-What?” Lauren stammered wide eyed. 

“Don’t worry, he has no intention of killing me...yet... that is.” he said with a bit of a smile. 

She rolled her eyes, “I wouldn’t trust him.” she seethed. 

“I would.” Tristan met her gaze steadily and with a small bit of assurance. 

Lauren crossed her arms in her lap, face contorted in deep thought. Her vision switched from the outside and back to her uncle, who sat uncomfortably in the chair. 

“Why did you say sorry?” she asked again. 

He sighed, “For not telling you the truth sooner. For leading you on, with your work and everything else. And for Kieran...I hadn’t realized that you felt so strongly for him.” 

Lauren scoffed at that, “I wouldn’t say that.” 

Tristan raised his eyebrows, and smiled, “How long have you known he was Dylan?” he asked. 

She sighed, “A few weeks.” She stated, blushing under the cover darkness. 

“Did he ever tell you of his time abroad?” Tristan asked. 

She shook her head, “What do you mean by abroad?” 

“Darnya,” he said, “his training camp, funded by the generous Phantom Scythe of course.” Tristan said. 

“No, he never spoke of it. Honestly he was never very personal.” she stated looking away from him, the topic of conversation not her most favorite. 

Tristan's eyebrows furrowed, “Are you not curious?” he asked. 

“He is an assassin for the most feared syndicate in the settlement. What is there to be curious about?” she asked, anger bleeding into her voice. 

Tristan leaned back, crossing his legs at the ankles, fingers weaved behind his head. “There is a depth to him that no one knows, except maybe me and the other PS members. Darnya is not just a training camp. It is not run by PS members, it is run by samurais.” he looked over at Lauren gauging her reaction, which was expressionless, but interested all the same. 

“You know very well he fights with a katana. And he fights quite...flawlessly. But Darnya, plays itself as an orphanage, but no child goes to Daryna for care, or parents, or guardianship. They are sent there or...sold there, in the hopes that they return as assassins.” he said as calm as he could manage. 

Lauren, visibly uneasy at his words asked, “So he was sent to Daryna as a child, and trained as an assassin?” she asked. 

Tristan nodded slowly, “Yes. But it is not that simple. His reputation as an assassin did not begin when he returned to Ardhalis. It began when he was a child, there at Darnya,” Tristan took a ragged breath, “You see, to be as a samurai would be, is a rare thing- it requires great sacrifice. Tens of hundreds of children are sent to Darnya, I don’t know how many exactly were there when Kieran arrived, but I’ve heard rumors it was nearly thirty or so.” he said. 

“So you’re saying there are thirty Kieran White’s running around Ardhalis and neighboring settlements murdering people?” she asked. 

He stared her in the face, “No,” he stated, his face on the verge of breaking, “Kieran White is the only assassin in Ardhalis, because he was forced to kill the other thirty.” 

“What.” she asked, stone faced. 

“His reputation as an assassin is so well-known, because he effectively killed the other thirty children who trained alongside him for seven years,” he looked up at her, “friends, Lauren. The only company he knew, he was forced to murder, or he himself would be killed. Most children let alone people, don’t survive that. But he did.” he said. 

She was silent for a long moment. The thought of him, Dylan, good hearted and kind arriving at an institution, alone and afraid where his only solace were the boys and girls beside him- feeling just the same. How his charismatic charm and knowledge of flora may have won them over, how he built friendships, and found some company after all his family had left. How he was taught to kill, and kill the only company he had. It nearly brought tears to her eyes, the memory of him handing her the photograph, and walking from her life, like a shot in the chest. She looked up at her uncle, mouth agape and eyes watering. 

He seemed to harbor the same feeling, his jaw clenching. He removed his spectacles, wiping his eyes. 

“It was my fault. I didn’t fight for him to stay. I didn’t hide him away. He didn’t want to go either.” he said, tears falling. 

“Un-” 

“Don’t. Dammit.” he stated furiously, holding up a hand to stop her.

He put his spectacles back on his nose, “Lauren. I don’t know if he deserves forgiveness, I don’t know if he even deserves love at this point. But I meant it when I said he had been dealt a horrible hand in life, a hand that I in part dealt. And it isn’t an excuse for his actions, but he was hardly given a choice.” he said frantically rising to his feet and moving towards the door, opening it slightly, “Just keep that in mind.” he whispered, departing quickly, leaving Lauren shocked and guilt ridden, hardly able to move from a top her bed.


	17. Veritas et Amor

Lauren had been awake most of the night, wedged firmly between two pillows she periodically lifted the image of Dylan to her face, inspect it in the moonlight and then putting it back down again. 

It was difficult enough to comprehend your own identity, so to comprehend someone elses was an entirely different challenge. Blindly accepting things wasn’t a strong suit of Laurens, she could detect her lies, but truth was never easy. Kierans' truth had shot through her chest like a led bullet, it had left her breathless and completely rid of any reason- and bleeding on more than one account. Not only this, but the truth of his association with her uncle, truth however freeing, is always, always rigid. So to blindly accept these new truths, was not something easily done. The image of him, head flung back in a big smile, helped. She had seen it so many times before- perhaps it was what made her agree to his deal in the first place. Under the surface of sinisity, and danger, was something familiar. A smile that felt complete, that felt like truth.

It was early morning now, and a small knock came at Laurens bedroom door. 

“Ms.Sinclair?” Lucy’s small voice whimpered from outside. 

“Come in.” Lauren said, sitting in an upright position. 

Lucy came in quietly with a serving tray full of coffee and danish’s. She sat it down gently on the vanity table near Laurens bed. 

“Your uncle mentioned you may be in need of food,” she said brushing her hands on her outfit, “sometimes seeing old friends can take it out of you.” she chuckled nervously moving towards the door. 

“Wait.” Lauren said, body now erect in interest. “What do you mean old friend?” she asked. 

Lucy looked around the room nervously, “I mean Mr.White....or Rosenthaal if you prefer.” she said eyeing Lauren wearily. 

“You knew who he was?” Lauren asked. 

“Why yes, he came here often enough.” she said. 

“What do you mean?” Lauren asked swinging her legs off the edge of the bed, her face twisted in concern. 

“He’s been coming around for years. He was always asking for you.” she said. 

“He came here looking for me?” she asked exasperated. 

“Y-yes. He was always quite eager to see you. It must have been a great relief for him to see you again. And you as well, I’m sure.” Lucy smiled and opened the door quickly walking from Lauren's room. 

Lauren sat eyes on the hardwood at her feet, a flood of emotion coursed through her, pumping her heart, throbbing her skull, and all pooled to the corners of her mouth in the form of a small smile. 

………………………………...

Lauren barged into the cave, it was lit dimly by candlelight, Kieran in a familiar spot, in his chair bent over reading a book. 

He looked up from his book, “I didn’t kill a massive number of people, if that’s why you’re here.” 

She laughed, breathless from her running. 

“No.” 

There was a long silence between them. Drug out by his obedient gaze on her face.

“You came to my house?” she asked finally, panting from her run. 

He closed the book completely. “Yesterday? Yes that was in fact me...” he said leaning back, confused. 

She waived a hand in dismissal, “I’m referring to before, after you came back. This morning Lucy said you used to come to the house...to try and talk to me?” she said. 

Kieran laughed briefly, “I did. I used to barge in unannounced and scare the wits out of the poor woman,” He stretched his legs out straight in front of him, lacing his fingers behind his head, “give her my apologies would you.” 

Lauren couldn’t help herself, she smiled at the image of a young bouncy Kieran busting through the door of her home, Lucy’s serving tray exploding from her hands in surprise. 

She sat down on the cold ground across from him. 

“My uncle, he stopped you.” she stated. 

He nodded slowly, “Many times.” 

“Why?” she asked, meeting his gaze. 

“Why what?” 

“Why did you want to see me?” she asked. 

“Do you really not know officer?” he asked, expectantly. 

She looked up at him, “I do. I just want to hear you say it. So I know it isn’t a lie.” 

Kieran smiled quickly, his heart leaping out of his chest at her boldness. “Our evening together wasn’t enough explanation?” he asked. 

Lauren rolled her eyes, “Anyone can have sex, it was hardly an explanation.” 

Kieran radically blushed, standing to his feet swinging over to a nearby table, taking a swig of whiskey. He stared at its contents thoughtfully and held it close to his chest, his other hand in his pocket. 

“You were the only friend I had,” he grimaced at his drink, “and because I was...am, and will always be, catastrophically in love with you.” he said, not able to meet her eyes. 

She flushed, making her look around the room impatiently. As if the water, or candlelight might distract her from such a confession. Neither of them said anything- because she knew as well as he did, that his answer was inevitable. 

“Do you have music?” she asked after a long moment, rising to her feet. 

Kieran looked up, “I have a gramophone.” 

“Would you put something on?” she asked. 

He nodded his head, moving over to the machine placing a record on, and lightly setting the needle on its face. Jazz played, soft trumpets and piano. Kieran grimaced down at the gramophone for a second, it’s tone scratchy, guilty with how little he had used it- but he had no reason to until now. 

Lauren removed her jacket and smoothed her shirt beneath. 

She put out a hand, “Have you ever danced with an angel in the...” she looked around, “dark...candlelight?” she asked, smiling at him with her eyes. 

He forced a chuckle, moving over to her and grabbing her hand in his, his other around her waist pulling her close and swaying. 

“I don’t believe you’re the angel in this situation.” he said, spinning her. 

“Why not?” she asked, insulted. 

“Have you seen your hair?” the assassin smiled. 

She narrowed her eyes at him, hardly containing her own. 

“Red, like the pits of hell.” he whispered into her ear as he bowed her backward. 

Her eyebrows rose, the edges of her mouth along with it, “Ah- you’ve been before?” 

“Once or twice.” he said seriously, “desperately in need of an interior designer.” he laughed with her. 

…………………………….

They danced the entire record, bickering and joking only pausing once so Kieran could flip the record. Kieran a few times attempted to trip her, and Lauren would respond with a punch to his arm. It wasn’t the same dancing they had done when they captured Anslow, or at the Carmine- those times it was a distraction, neither of them completely focused on the other, all structured movements and general work.

They spun too fast this time, their hair falling from its bindings, heads and hands sweating as they changed pace violently. Both of them laughing, as they made fun of one another, Lauren squealing as Kieran attempted moves he was nowhere near experienced at. It was the first time in a long time either of them had truly enjoyed themselves, the first time Kieran had allowed himself to smile freely, and Lauren let down her guard, allowing herself to be swept away for a song. They were children again, free and inexplicably joyful. 

Towards the end they weren’t so much dancing, as simply holding one another. Laurens head rested on his chest, his head bowed languidly near her shoulder. They held each other gently, moving side to side, eyes closed out of exhaustion. Kieran would periodically hum the notes, the sound reverberating through his chest and into Laurens ear, making her eyes grin behind closed lids. 

Even after the last trumpet had sounded they stayed glued together, kindred spirits had found each other once again. 

When she moved reluctantly to break their embrace, she found herself trapped. He tightened his grip around her. 

“Not yet.” he whispered desperately. 

“But there’s no more music.” she said into his chest. 

He had gone very still around her, still enveloped in his arms she could feel a familiar heat blossoming in her chest. Her heart began to beat, fast and hard so much so she was sure Kieran could feel it. She began to register the soft way the pads of his fingers gripped the sides of her waist, and lower back. How he breathed calm and even and warm against her neck. She pushed away her better judgement, leaning into his touch, and he let out a great sigh of relief when she did so. 

As they stood stilled in one another's arms, she thought of him finding her. However much torture he may have endured, it didn’t matter, he had wanted to see her. She grinned at the thought of how it would have felt him rushing up to her room, throwing the door open, and proclaiming something completely idiotic, but with the utmost confidence- as he always did. How she would have had no idea who he was, or what he had done, or why he was in her room in the first place, but the singular understanding that this man was in love with her and he had missed her. And she thought for a moment maybe that would have been enough. He would have been enough family for her, unstable, erratic and murderous family, but family nonetheless. And she thought again, of the man in her arms now, who had suffered more than most people, lived a life of great loneliness and guilt, and the singular person he had chosen in his one finite existence, was her. 

He spoke suddenly, tired and with closed eyes, “However much I may love you Lauren, I cannot tie you to a life that is bound to end badly.” he inhaled sharply, “Even if you do not want it, if I am compromised, you will most likely be hung alongside me. Your uncle was right about that much.” 

She kept her face against his chest, hardly moved by his macabre words, “Hang me they may. But I won’t mind the hanging, it’ll be the laying in the ground so long.” 

She felt him smile against her hair, “Then you’ll forgive me if I’m ever selfish with you?” he asked. 

“I forgave you a long time ago.” 

His inhibitions crumbled. “Ren.” he said softly. 

“Hm?” 

“I desperately want to kiss you.” 

“You didn’t need my permission before.” she said.

“Precisely, and look how that ended.” he laughed. 

“If I recall correctly it was very...damp.” she smiled. 

“Good lord.” he exclaimed, rolling his eyes. 

She giggled, “What did you call that dampness? Succe-” 

He had grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her softly, stopping her words. It wasn’t like the time before, all heat, biting, hands and rash decisions. It was calm this time, slow and gentle each press of lips a thoughtful expression. His tongue delicately drifted against her lips, and she opened her mouth to him with a small sigh. Methodically they tasted one another, tongues intertwined, teeth grazing lips. She gently nipped at him and he pulled back, hands still cupped around her face. 

“Is this gentle enough to convince you of my identity?” he asked. 

She reached up and kissed him again, “No, no I think you better try harder.” 

He smiled against her mouth, repeating his same languid motions, parting her lips with his own. His fingers raked into her hair as he planted small butterfly kisses against her lips, murmuring between them. 

“Mm. Ohhh Kieran...or Dylan, mmh...” he said kissing her along the neck, “oh, you’re so gentle…” his lips moving to her eyelids as she stifled a laugh, “oh baby, it reminds me of not murdering, and not assassinating… or that one time you choked me,” he said mimicking her thoughts as he moved back to her lips, “dear god, you’re such an uncomplicated man…”

“Is that really what my inner monologue sounds like to you?” she interrupted, laughing. 

“I truly hope so.” he grinned. 

He pushed her hair away, brushing his mouth down her neck. She pulled her head back placing her forehead against his.

“You will forever have three identities to me, none of which I entirely hate.” she whispered. 

“Really?” he asked excitedly, “none of which you entirely hate eh? I don’t believe you’ve ever been this nice to me officer.” 

She reached her hands up and unsnapped the top button of his shirt, “Don’t get used to it.” Her fingers echoed the same movement down, before pulling the shirt from his shoulders completely. She looked down at his arm, laying her fingers on where the dagger had cut it. 

“How is it?” she asked, sadness bleeding into her voice.

“I don’t care.” he leaned in and kissed her again, his own hands reaching to unbutton her blouse. If he wasn’t being so patient she may not have noticed his shaking hands, or the tremble in his breath as they kissed. She reached up to help him, working the buttons away herself and stripping it from her body. 

He looked down at her, trailing a finger up from her navel, around the slope of her breast, up the curve of her neck, and settled lightly at her bottom lip, pulling to reveal the glistening surface. He tilted towards her, his mouth meeting hers for a long moment. 

He stopped, reaching a hand down to grasp hers and pull her towards the cupboard bed. 

He sat down on the edge, pulling her between his legs “We don’t have to do anything. I would be more than happy to take off the rest of your clothes and simply fall asleep next to you.” he said, peering down at her palm in his. 

“But I must be naked?” she asked an eyebrow raised. 

“Yes, it is a rule.” he smiled. 

She giggled, “Whose rule?”

“The caves’.” he said matter of factly, “It’s etched in the wall near the entrance, have you not seen it? It says, ‘Thou shalt not sleepeth... clothed whence next to a smoldering man’.” His eyes flared blue up at hers. 

“Is that any smoldering man?” she asked. 

“Are you trying to hurt my feelings? Obviously there is only one smoldering man.” he said, gesturing down at his body with a turn of his head. 

She turned to glimpse at the entrance, but he had caught hold of her and pulled her down over him,   
“You can look at it later.” he said, both laughing as he pulled her mouth down onto his. 

………………………………..

They spent the evening in one another’s arms. Neither had made any kind of advances towards the other, to indicate something more should happen. They alternated from undressing to kissing, to conversation, and eventually to simply falling asleep. 

Kierans chest pressed tightly against her back, his arm slouched over her waist as their breath rose and fell in unison. 

A few candles had burned completely down in the room, the few still lit cast dancing shadows on the rock above them. The cave itself filled with the sounds of a scratchy white noise from the gramophone that was still on, and the bustle of rushing water. In a word it was peaceful. 

Kieran awoke slightly to Lauren stirring beside him. He creaked open his eyes, watching the twitching woman in his arms, and went a sudden dark red. The blood in his face and chest throbbed at the feeling of her body rubbing against him. Her movements completely irregular and unintentional, despite the reaction they charged. 

“Lauren,” he whispered, propping himself up on an elbow, “Lauren.” he cupped her cheek quietly, surveying her wearied face. Aimlessly pressing himself against her. 

She murmured, seemingly frustrated. Kieran watched amazed, debating to wake her up or not. He couldn’t help himself, he smiled at the sight of her. He began to think of his life, outside of this moment, how horrible it had really been. He had endured too many moments of death, too many moments of betrayal and sickness and lies. So to lie in bed next to her, not caring where his hands were, or where his lips traveled, was a blessing, some kind of intervention Kieran never believed he might get. The best of it, he thought, would be in the morning, when he’d wake up and realize with glaring happiness that it hadn’t all been a dream. 

But Kierans' curiosity got the better of him, the swelling growing stronger. He bent his head slightly to press his mouth near her ear, 

“Lauren.” he whispered. 

She roused, opening her eyes slightly, and then all at once. She pulled him down, glancing her lips across his. “Dylan.” she whispered, hands wrapped tightly around his neck.

He pulled back rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone, “Not Kieran?” he asked quietly.

She reached her hand up, skimming her fingers along the length of his arm, to the bone of his shoulder across the bend of his collarbone, and up into his hair. Her fingers expanded and contracted on the back of his skull, massaging him downward. He obliged, nudging her nose with his. 

She let out a sigh, “Three identities remember.” she whispered, desperately close to his mouth. The heat in his body broke like a failed dam, flooding and pooling lower. 

He tilted his chin forward, ever so slightly, so he could put his lips against hers. His hand moved to her bare hip bone, pulling her backward against him. His length, hard against her soft skin. They both went rigid at the sudden pressure, their kissing changed from gentle to starved in the sliver of a moment. He kissed her solidly, the wanting inside him now absconded. She gripped his hair tighter in response, urging on the small grapplings his hand made against her hip, desperate to have him closer. 

Their mutual exhaustion made the aching stronger, every touch they made against one another woke their bodies up. Like the feeling of waking up to music, or the smell of brewing coffee. But instead of coffee or music, it was the anticipation of pleasure, keen-edged and fool hearted pleasure. He nimbly moved on top of her, the abrupt rush of cool air hardening her breasts below him. He kept his lips closed on hers, contorting his arm to bring the blanket back over their hips as he nudged his body between her legs.

“Ah, Kieran.” she whispered as he moved to kiss her neck and collar bones, his thumb brushing lightly against her breast. He laughed as he did so, pulling away looking down on her as he pushed a piece of hair from her face. 

“Are you cold?” he smiled. 

Her body flushed with goosebumps at his words, and she smiled back, “Yes.” 

To her surprise, he moved away from her, lowering himself down her body kissing the line from her sternum to her navel. Her legs twitched violently as she felt his lips reach lower and lower, the small wind in his breath making the soft pink of her flesh tingle. He gripped his hands on her thighs, running the tip of his tongue up the seam of her, and closing his lips around the bud. Lauren cried out loudly and suddenly, blushing rose from her sudden reaction. 

She gripped the sheet beneath her as he worked carefully, sucking and massaging her with his tongue, lapping the sweet buildup of her arousal. He hastened his movements, flicking urgently against her, she thrust her hands into his hair pulling tightly. So much so that he groaned in pain, grabbing her wrists and pinning them to the bed. The awkward way he held her arms made her back arch and her body press harder into his mouth. Lauren cried out more demandingly, hitching her body up to meet his own, and she tightened, but found nothing to tighten around. 

“Kieran.” she said short-winded. 

“Hm?” he moaned against her, eyebrows still taught in concentration. The vibration of his voice nearly put her over the edge. 

“Stop, please.” she panted and he pulled himself away. 

“What’s the matter?” he asked nervously. 

She reached down pulling at his chin, moving his head up to hers and his body along with it. She kissed him hard, and he responded the same. He drowned in the desperate way she moved against him, his length throbbing as she lifted her body up to press against his.

“I want you.” she said in between the brief separation of their mouths. He kissed her harder at her words, grabbing at her legs impulsively, hoisting them up to his sides so she could latch around him. 

His body began to move, almost imperceptibly against hers. He reached his hand down, shaking with anticipation, he grabbed himself and positioned himself at her entrance rubbing the head of him against her wet folds, gasping at the feeling. 

“Are you alright?” she asked quietly, noticing the rattle in his breath and the way his hands trembled. 

He nodded quickly, pressing his forehead against hers. She reached her hands to his back stroking slightly. 

“Just kiss me.” she cooed.

He obliged immediately, squeezing his eyes shut forcing his lips onto hers and pushing himself inside her. She shuddered under him, and he did the same, a ripple of relief spun through them- to finally be together. He let out a ragged breath and smiled brilliantly against her lips. She couldn’t help herself, she smiled back at the feeling, and the utter joy on his face. 

He put his lips back on hers and began moving, slowly at first, but then with fervor. As the heat of their movements increased, he grabbed her hands, pinning them to the bed beside her, his hips grinding into her own as she squirmed beneath him. He groaned softly, as she tightened evenly around him with every thrust. Their bodies moved in a harmonized rhythm, like a wave, tempered and slow but crashing all the same. 

Hardly able to control his body besides the thrust in his hips, he rested his head on her shoulder. His face pressing hard into her collar as he moved, his hands tightening around her fingers. 

“Slower.” she whispered into his ear. Her own fingers clasped strongly around his, wanting badly to reach out and touch him. 

He obeyed reluctantly, his hips moving at a now aching pace, “You’re torturing me.” he gasped against her body.

She smiled at the thought. 

It wasn’t like the last time, nothing like it in fact. Before he had been gentle with her, in a way that was shy, as if he were afraid of her own consent to the situation, like she might run away out of fear. But this time he was gentle in a purposeful way, one that kissed her shoulder with a sense of familiarity, and exhaled breath like each was a sigh of relief. 

Or maybe it was the fact she could actually see him, that made it different. Peering down at his back above her, she watched the deep shadows in his muscle, cast by the warmth of candlelight, sway slightly as he moved his body back and forth. His skin glistened with a layer of sweat, his black disheveled hair tangled and mused beside her. His shoulders strong, arms heavy against her own. 

Or maybe it was the feeling, that made it different. How comically wonderful it all felt, to think of dancing with him, his plea to kiss her, and the way he led her to bed. How wonderful it felt to wake up to him above her, and the feeling of him now. How he had listened, and slowed his pace, something that was surely torturous to him, but dreadfully erotic in the sense of passion. 

He removed her hands, and clutched his own around her shoulders, moving them both so she was on top. She went to rise up and assume the normal position, and he went with her, placing his hands lightly on her hips. He watched in wonderment as she rolled herself up and down him. He smiled up at her and the way she kept her fingers tightly clutched to his hair, and her forehead pressed against his, mouth open in elation. The slow way she moved, although gratifying, left him wanting. 

He groomed his hands up to her waist, grabbing so he could lift her slightly, forcefully matching her pace with his. At the sudden change in feeling, she let out a soft moan. It was only a brief moment before they were moving faster again, their rhythm against one another easy and shattering all the same. 

His hands came up hooking around the back of her shoulders, holding her there while he thrust forcefully into her. Eliciting moan after moan from her lips.

“A-ah,” he whined, “...I-I can’t….Ren.” he clutched her harder, his motions still vigorous, she responded equally as desperately, trying her hardest to move with him, but the strength of his grip increasing with every thrust. 

They simultaneously cried out, as they did so he quickly grabbed her head, pushing his lips against hers, his tongue maneuvering into her mouth and his hands grabbing her hair. He kissed her greedily as he flinched inside her. She grabbed at his chest frantically, finding no bearing as she spasmed on top of him. He held her there firmly, as their pleasure subsided, bodies still stiff and twitching.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a washroom in this cave would you.” she said against his mouth.

He began to laugh, low and throaty, “No, officer,” he said still breathless, “but I do have a stream, of sorts.” 

……………………..

It was cold, but much better than any shower could have chosen. Lauren was in waist deep, not so much washing, as simply relaxing, tilting her head back slightly letting the water flow through her hair and down her face. 

Kieran sat still in bed, his head rested on his arm, watching her. 

She turned to look at him and he flushed. He wasn’t entirely accustomed to her being naked, and her being completely comfortable with it was another thing. 

“You’re not going to join me?” she asked, sinking down to her neck. 

He smiled from his perch, “How is it I never seem to get any sleep when you’re around?” he lifted himself from the bed, and got up to join her. 

She shivered, not from the cold, but from the sight of him. He was thin, but covered in taught, strong angular muscles, the only bright thing about him were his eyes. His hair rumpled from their love making fell down in front of his face. He sat down at the water's edge and slid in slowly next to her, letting out an audible gasp from the chill. 

“Would you rather we get some sleep?” she asked, twisting her hair in her hands. 

He turned towards her, sinking down to his chin, “No,” he shook his head, “No definitely not.” he laughed. 

She smiled and went all the way under, emerging slowly and pushing her hair back. She was all warmth against the cool backdrop of the water, and it wasn’t long before Kieran felt the same heat rise up in him. Her nipples hard and wet, like pebbles in a stream. Water glistened down her body, following the curve of bone and muscle, shining over the valley of goosebumps that lifted on her pale flesh. She didn’t take much notice to his own gaze, until he drew his hands around her waist and kissed her.

He tasted of water, and sweat, and she squealed slightly when he lifted her up against him with a grunt, now a few inches taller than him, she watched. He trailed a line of kisses down her clavicle, his mouth warm on her chilled breast. She yelped as he drug his tongue up and around her body, the water collecting on his tongue as he swirled it around her breasts, her nipples, and moved to bite gently the skin on her arm. He repeated his movements, until they were both undone, and he was pinning her to the side of the bank, his length throbbing inside her once more, swallowing down the gasps she made against his mouth.


End file.
